Bloodlines
by DragonVerse
Summary: True Van Helsing has renounced her family name, unaware that a Devil's Gate has been opened releasing a dark tide the likes of which the world has never known. Good and evil are on the brink of war, and a demon out for Van Helsing blood is on the hunt. The only chance True has to survive is to put her trust in the Winchesters, two hunters who have their own problems to deal with.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! So, this is a reposting of my previous story of the Van Helsing Chronicles, with some changes to better help the story flow. It takes place during the 3rd season. I hope you like it. Please feel free to review, I gladly accept all constructive criticism.** **Thanks!**

 **No copyright intended. I do not own Supernatural or Van Helsing.**

 **The Van Helsing Chronicles**

 **Book One: Bloodlines**

 **Chapter One:**

 **Then:**

The one-star hotel room on the outskirts of New York City wasn't anything special. Quite and small, two queen sized beds, chipping paint on the wall, the smell of cheap beer and day old food was subtle but noticeable. A dining table had been set in the front corner of the room, just to the right of a large window, with curtains open just enough to let in the dim light of the moon. The table was littered with news paper clipping, old books on ancient demons and witchcraft, and a computer.

It was there that Dean Winchester sat, staring blankly at the computer screen as he clicked though website after website, trying to figure out what kind of evil he and his brother, Sam, were hunting. They had ruled out several options, but where no closer to solving the case.

Arianna. Arielle. Aria. Ariel.

Those four names dance around in Dean's head over and over, taunting him. Every time he closed his eyes he could see the faces of the girls the names belonged to. All pretty girls, ages ranging between twenty and twenty-five, with dark hair and round brown eyes, staring up at him with looks a mix of shock and horror. Their eyes asking the same question: Why didn't you save me?

For nearly a week Dean and his brother had fallowed their murder from the Glades of Florida to New York, trailing after the bodies unable to save the next girl. The deeper they investigated, the more confusing this case became. Satanic symbols had been carved into the girls, but all the symbols meant nothing. They were completely random, but there had been reports of sulfur and flickering lights the day leading up to the murder, suggesting that a demon was behind the killings, yet they had found jack shit about it.

Releasing a sharp breath, Dean clicked on the MySpace page of the latest victim, Ariel Strode. A picture of the girl popped up on the screen, her bright smile darkened by her death. Dean quickly scrolled through her page, all the post where happy-go-lucky, just like the others. Also just like the others the investigation had revealed that all girls had solid reputations and no enemies to speak off. No one could figure out why these girls were targets.

Dean pursed his lips, his attention shifting from the computer to the beer bottle he had placed beside it. He'd nearly forgotten about it during his research, and now his mouth felt dry at the thought of the golden liquor sliding down his throat. He took hold of the neck of the bottle and lifted the rim to his lips. Raising the bottom, he parted his lips and barley anything came out. Dean pulled the bottle from his lips, gazing at it in annoyance.

Dean placed the bottle back on to the table and leaned away from his computer. A long overdue yawn escaped his lips, but he didn't bother covering his mouth as he rubbed his tired eyes. A dull ache had formed behind them hours ago, pulsing as it grew, reaching his temples and behind his ears. He had attempted to drown out the pain with a glass of whiskey before the beer, but neither had helped. Exhaustion was a large contributing factor, and with no leads maybe he could finally try to catch up on some sleep.

Dean slouched down in his seat until the back of his head reached the back rest. Crossing his arms over his chest, Dean closed his eyes. As tired as he was, this position was just comfortable enough for a quick nap. Relaxing his muscles, he heaved a sign, and that's when he felt it.

The all too familiar sickening feeling settled in the space beneath his ribcage. Another girl was probably going to die soon, was dying, or was already dead, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Frustration and anger filled him, making him agitated. Dean sat up in his chair, grumbling under his breath. Using his legs he pushed his chair backward, the sound of metal scraping against hardwood broke the silence around him as he stood.

Dean felt restless, needing to hurt or kill something, anything, to get a release. He walked toward the bed and picked up his gun, which he had finished cleaning earlier. The familiar weight of it sat perfectly in his palm as if it had been made just for him, the cold metal a relief against his hot skin. It was his favorite gun, given to him by his father. Even now it calmed him, soothing away the agitation and replacing it with confidence. Dean had always been good with a gun.

Dean tucked the gun in the pack of his jeans, letting the weight settle before turning to the mini-fridge. He crossed the room in two long strides and pulled the fridge door open, reaching in and pulling out an unopened beer. He twisted off the cap and took a long swig, downing almost half of it before coming up for air. Heaving a reluctant sigh, Dean returned to his seat at the dining room table, scooting the empty beer bottles aside for his new one.

He existed the MySpace page and clicked on the police report just as the hotel door opened. He glanced up lazily as Sam entered the room, swinging the door shut behind him with a bang.

"Another one?" Dean asked, his face falling at the downcast look Sam gave him as he took the other seat across the table. Even though he knew the answer before Sam said anything, there was still that little speck of hope that reluctantly hoped.

"Ariaden," Sam confirmed grimly, sliding low in his seat, "They think she may have been the first. Her corpse was discovered in buried Tampa. Body is at least six days old."

"Damn it," Dean mumbled. He ran his hand across his face, his callous fingers sliding roughly across his stubble covered chin, "What is this guy doing? What's so special about these girls?"

"Dean, I don't think it's the girls," Sam said. He sat up straight in his chair, eager to share the first real lead they had, and held out a manila folder, "I think it's the name."

Dean raised his eyebrow at his brother questioningly, but took the folder from him and flipped it open. It was filled with recent news paper articles on strange deaths and events that had happened across the East Coast in towns that each one of the victims had died in. He flipped through the articles until he found a photo of a young girl tucked into the back. She was model beautiful, with long wavy auburn hair, a toned figure, full lips, just like the other girls, but it was the warm chocolate eyes of this one that caught Dean's attention. Even in the candid picture she seemed to be staring through him, seeing more then he wanted her too.

Dean cleared his throat, trying to brush off the feelings of desire he felt, and said, "She's cute. Who is she?"

"Flip it over," Sam said. He smiled at his older brother, unable to hide his excitement.

Dean did as told and turned the photo over and found a messy scribble of worlds, barely readable, across the back. He read the words out loud, "True Bennett. Salt Lake City, Utah."

Sam nodded, "I looked her up. There is a girl in Salt Lake matching True Bennett. I took this file from one of the cops at the station. A tip led them to an apartment they think the killer was staying at."

"Okay," Dean drawled, still confused, "But what does that have to do with these girls? It's not even a similar name."

"Cause get this, True Bennett didn't exist until a little over a year ago," Sam said, beaming with pride in his discovery, "Maybe she changed her name. I told the cops here we'll look into it."

"So she's in hiding?" Dean asked, before taking a swig of his beer, "Changed her name, and whatever is doing the killings is trying to find her?"

"I don't know, maybe," Sam shrugged, "All I know is that each article is about cases _we_ would have looked into."

"You think she's a hunter?" Dean scoffed, lowered his gaze back to the photo of the girl. She didn't look like she'd be a hunter. He didn't wait for Sam's reply before saying, "Guess we're going to Salt Lake."

 **Now:**

 **Salt Lake City, Utah**

The scent of decaying leaves and rain hung on the cool autumn breeze that blew strands of my hair across my face. I smiled slightly to myself, tucking my numbing fingers into the pockets of my jacket, looking down at the sidewalk as my combat boots crunched over dead leaves. I turned my attention to the trees, filled with brilliant shades of reds and yellows, the dim light of the setting sun casting the world with a brilliant gold, the sky shades of pink and yellow. It was truly beautiful.

I've spent the majority of my life trying not to be defined by the darkness that I hunted. I wanted to live in the light, but here in the dimming glow of the sun, searching for evil, is where I felt the most at home. Here, I was free. I breathed deep, excelling slowly, loving the feeling.

Dressed in my usual hunting attire- black shirt, black cargo pants (loaded with weapons, salt, and holy water), and black combat boots- I walked down the streets of Rose Park, passing the occasionally pedestrian who hurried past me with not so much as a head nod in my direction, and completely aware of the shadow that larked several yards behind me. There was a certain amount of power in knowing something what someone else didn't. In this case, the creature behind me had no idea what he was getting himself into.

I wasn't what you would consider a normal girl, though on the outside you wouldn't be able to tell. With my painted nails, styled auburn hair, and Aeropostale clothing I blended in, but on the inside, I was a hunter. The Last of the Van Helsings, born and raised for the hunt, and as such I had the responsibility to do the job, even if I had to do it alone.

I strolled effortlessly around a corner, fallowing the gentle curve of the sidewalk, and flipped my hair over my shoulder, managing to get a glimpse of my assailant. He wasn't particularly tall, maybe a few inches taller than my own 5'5, dressed in baggy dark and dirty clothes. The man had pulled a hood over his eyes, blocking out the upper half of his face. He appeared stocky; though there was some weight in the broad shoulders. If it was just fat or muscle, I couldn't tell. I smiled to myself, keeping my eyes fixed in front of me. It didn't matter how short or how heavy he was. Vampires where always stronger then they looked. He could be a stick and still snap my neck if he got his hands on me, but he wouldn't. He'd want to keep me alive.

In the past seven days, seven bodies of young women had been found scattered across Rose Park brutally beaten, with bite marks and completely drained of blood. Even an amateur hunter could deduce that this was the work of a vamp, who was probably a newbie himself. Being this sloppy was bad for the lifeline, hunters for miles would pick up the scent of this case and be here faster than Bubba J could chug a beer. Lucky for me, I got here first.

I slowed, approaching a skateboard park. I changed direction and begun walking across the cement flooring, down one of the small hills toward the center. It was oddly empty for the time of day it was. Cool air blew the stray hairs that hadn't made it into my ponytail across my face, ticking my skin. The setting sun cast a brilliant shine of color across the sky, and the sounds of singing birds preparing for the night created a soft symphony around me. It was nice; I closed my eyes basking in it while centering myself. I would have hated to be locked inside on a day like this.

Rose Park was no newcomer when it came to crime, but perhaps the brutality of the murders was enough to keep people away. That worked for me. No audience was better than trying to answer the hundreds of questions that would follow the beheading that was about to occur. Plus, I'd feel the need to stick around and help clean up the mess or something, and blood was hard as hell to get out of clothes.

I stopped in the middle of the skate park, keeping my back toward my assailant and reached into my pocket, pulling out my razor floss. I wrapped the dull end of the wire around my palms to the pounding of my heart from the anticipation. Adrenalin pumped through my veins, strengthening me, preparing me. It was exhilarating. I waited for the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end, alerting me to the danger behind me, before I turned to face my attacker.

The man loomed a few feet behind me, his head hung low and wringing his hands together like an addict waiting for his next fix. I hesitated, considering the fact this guy might not actually be a vampire, but just a human looking for trouble. I had to make sure I was about to kill the right guy. Ever so slightly I moved my hand, sliding the tip of my finger across the razor floss. The wound it gouged was no worse than a paper cut, a drop of blood pooled around it before dropping to the ground. Like a shark the man's head whipped up, flashing a row of sharp teeth. I smiled. The vampire snarled and rushed forward.

I spun, round house kicking the vampire in the head, making sure I didn't cut myself with my razor floss. I had plans tonight and couldn't afford any bruises or obvious cuts. He whipped away from me, stumbling, before whipping around and lunged for me. I dropped into a crouch and spun again, knocking his feet out from under him. The vamp fell to the cement with a frustrated growl. He rolled to his feet and charged again.

I slid my right foot back to steady myself. The vampire reached his hand for me and I quickly dodged, ducking under his arm. I turned my body away from him and slammed my elbow into his nose. The vampire stumbled, and I couldn't help my smug smile. The vamp recovered and whipped his hand back, nearly smacking me across the face, but I leaned back just in time. I stepped back and slammed my foot against his chest, knocking him back. When he reached for me again, I wrapped my razor floss around his wrist and pulled the wire tight, slicing hand from arm. The vampire let out a horrific screech that echoed around us, falling to his knees and clutching his nubby forearm. I was running out of time to remain unnoticed.

Eager to end this, I stepped up behind the vamp and wrapped my wire around his neck, pulling it against his skin. The vampire clawed at the wire, gashing his neck with his claws, his skin being sliced to the bone. I drew the wire back beheading the vampire. Arterial spray gushed from the hole in his neck, droplets raining down around me, as body and head crashed to the ground floor. I wiped at the blood on my face as I turned from the gruesome mess and bolted back across the skate park.

I slowed only as I approached my little red Volkswagen several blocks way. I slipped my car keys out of my back pocket and unlocked the door, satisfied with a job well done. Sliding into the driver's seat I reached for my phone I had left tucked way under the seat. Clicking the _On_ button to light up the screen as I started the car, I glanced at the five missed calls I had. They were all from the same person. I checked the time, it was nearly seven.

"Shit," I slammed my hand on the steering wheel. I was so late. I started the car and raced across town.

I parked my car _Fast and Furious_ style and jumped out of the seat, not bothering to lock the door. I raced into the apartment building that stretched above me, not pausing to take the elevator. I rushed to the stair case, taking the steps two at a time, until I reached the third floor. I nearly ran down a little old woman who was staring at me with wide eyes. I bit back a smile, remembering that I was still covered in vamp juice, but didn't stop. I reached the apartment door I was staying in and unlocked the door. I took a deep breath, reading myself for the onslaught, and stepped inside.

Claire, my roommate and best friend, walked out of her bedroom wearing nothing but a towel as I strolled into the living room. I paused to explain the blood, but she cut me off by pointing to my room, "Go, bathe, hurry."

I smiled at her, feeling my love for her bubble warmly at her understanding, and did as I was told. Claire had moved into her own apartment shortly after she graduated college, much to her father's dismay. She made sure to get a two bedroom for whenever I came to visit, which I had filled with my clothes and other essentials... like makeup. The apartment was modest, decorated in white and gold. There were pictures of landscapes and family photo of Claire and her parents on the walls and fake flowers on table tops. It felt more like my home than any other place I had lived before. I loved it.

I undressed as I closed my bedroom door behind me, tossing my clothes to the side. I kicked off my boots while starting the shower, and wasn't fully out of my bra and underwear when I stepped into the still warming water. It was only when the hot water cascaded around me did I slow down.

The vampire I had killed had been too easy. Either I was just that good, which was highly possible, or he was just that bad, which was also possible. But I had never liked easy. A sinking feeling of doom always seemed to nests in the back of my mind telling me that there was something more to this. Something I had missed. All the signs had pointed to a single vampire, no clan. So why did I feel like I had missed something? I tried to push the feeling to the back of my head. The job was done, that was that.

I scrubbed myself as if I was covered in a thick layer of dirt, watching the water run from pinkish to clear, then washed and conditioned my hair before shaving my armpits, legs, and bikini line. Rinsing my hair one last time, I shut off the water and stepped out into the steamy bathroom. I grabbed the towel hanging off the back of the door and dried my hair, before tossing it to the side and grabbing the blow-dryer and finishing off the last of the wetness. I walking back into my bedroom, found my costume, and dressed quickly.

I was wearing a mermaid outfit with an aqua-blue, clam shaped, silky bikini top, that had a string of white pearls dangled from the bottom of the bikini in three even layers, each on half an inch longer then the last which stopped an inch from my navel. The bottom of my mermaid outfit was a tight, aqua-blue skirt that hung just low enough on my hips, and just barely hiding my anti-possession tattoo that I had inked on my right hip, with a triangular slit up the front that stopped about mid-thigh. Light blue fabric trimmed the rim of the skirt evenly morphing into a tail that hung down the back. I topped the look off with high-heeled clear Cinderella style shoes, which I slipped on as I made my way to Claire's room.

I entered her room, my apology on the tip of my tongue, but Claire just pointed for me to sit in front of her vanity mirror she had placed on her dresser. I did as Claire stepped up beside me, reaching for the eyeliner. She grabbed my chin gently and turned my face to her.

"That was a lot of blood," Claire said softly, leaning forward to put on my eyeliner.

She was dressed as a sexy clown fish. Her strapless orange and black dress stopped just below the base of her butt, with a black tutu around the rim. She also wore orange and black striped knee high leggings and black heels. Her blond hair fell in waves around her shoulder, her blue eyes dusted with a white eye shadow, lips pale pink, and just for good measure, she dusted her light skin with a body mist that made her look shiny. She looked smoking hot.

"It wasn't mine," I assured her.

Claire and I had met on a job my father had brought me on ten years ago. Claire's own father had been possessed by a demon. My father managed to save Claire and her father, but not in time to save her mother. Since we were both fourteen, and I had lost my own mother several years earlier, Claire and I bonded quickly. I had fallen in love with her stubborn attitude, and awkwardness like she never fit in anywhere, just like I never felt I did, but it was her not caring about my looks or profession that truly locked me down. She didn't care if I could snipe a guy a hundred yards away or that I spoke Latin. She cared about me, for who I was. And though she out grew her awkwardness, she'd always be my best friend. Her concern for my safety, however, was almost suffocating.

"The vamp is dead then?" She leaned back to make sure my makeup was even, "And you didn't get hurt?"

I nodded, "Nothing to worry about."

Claire sighed, and finished my makeup, changing the subject to a brighter topic on whether or not mermaids where real. I let her blabber on as I enjoyed being pampered by her. When she had finished, Claire moved to my hair. She brushed it out, and I gazed at her work.

My dark brown eyes were lightened a few shades with light neutral eye shadow, my cheeks where a rosy pink and my lips glossy. Claire did a good job. I smiled at my reflection, feeling cute.

"You're going to be the sexiest damn mermaid at the whole party," Claire said.

She delicately twisted my hair to one side of my head and slid a clam hairpin against my head locking long, thick, auburn strands into place. She brushed my hair over my right shoulder and fluffed the waves elegantly. She grabbed a bottle nearby and began lightly glittering body mist over my sun-kissed skin. I looked like mermaid Barbie. I straightened my bikini top so that it was seated perfectly straight over my cleavage. The pearls gently rocked back and forth as I moved.

Smiling, I twirled around to check out the back of my outfit, "We are going to kill it tonight."

Claire laughed and wrapped her arm around my shoulder. We smiled at each other's reflecting, "Goddesses among men."

My smile grew, "Damn straight. Thanks again for inventing me to this fundraiser."

Claire's father was a big time executive who loved to have fundraisers every chance he got. I guess it was his way of meeting partners and making them feel important. The reason for it didn't matter, as long as a profit of partnerships could be made. It was still my kind of event. Getting to dress up and be girly was something I rarely got to do. For Claire, though, I was never busy.

"Thanks for coming!" Claire said happily, "I would have died if I had to go alone."

Claire gave me one last smile, showing off her perfect white teeth before she turned on her heel and marched over to her bed, while I fixed my lipstick. In the reflection of the mirror I watch her fling the covers from side to side before dropping to her hands and knees to look under the bed. I watched her with one eyebrow raised as she stuck her hand under the bed feeling around. When she didn't find what she was looking for, Claire straightened with a sigh. She sat back in her heels and flung her hair back over her shoulders.

"Can I help you find something?" I asked around a chuckle.

Claire glanced up at me, "Have you seen my handbag?"

I couldn't help throwing my head back and laughing, "You left it on the bathroom counter this morning."

Claire sighed as she pushed to her feet. She walked toward the bathroom, mumbling under her breath, "Why do I always take it to the bathroom?"

Giggling, I took one last look at myself in the mirror. Feeling sexy, I turned away while Claire fussed around in the bathroom. I made my way to the kitchen. I planned on drinking tonight so I had to get hydrated while I had the chance. I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a cup out of one of the cabinets. I turned on the faucet just as the doorbell rang. I groaned, dropping my head. It was like nine at night, who came around that late?

"True, can you get that?" Claire called from her room.

"Yeah," I called back, setting the empty glass on the counter by the sink.

I sauntered across the carpet of the living room. The person on the other side of the door knocked impatiently, so I slowed down to barely a crawl. I lifted my legs high, over exaggerating my arm movements, as if I was walking on the moon. There was another knock at the door again just as I reached it. I swung open the door fully intending to yell at whoever it was, but my voice died in my throat.

Well, damn.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

Two men dressed in cheap black suits stood in the hallway, looking out of place against the posh wallpaper with its bronze trim. They stood closer together, taking up most of my view, peering down at me. There was no doubt that these guys where handsome, borderline hot. My heart fluttered slightly, but I slapped on my cocky smile and looked them up and down.

One was taller than the other, with shaggy brown hair, and puppy dog eyes weighing heavy on his brows, already making me feel guilty about something. He was holding a blue folder in one hand, and looking at me with a concerned, yet kind look. It was a look that said I could trust him with my soul, which was kind of creepy considering my line of work. I don't trust anyone with my soul.

The shorter one had short hair, perfectly styled, bright green eyes, and a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. A withdrawn look slowly spread across his handsome face as licked his lips, his eyes trailing over me. His eyes lingering at key points along my body, leaving warmth everywhere he looked. Meeting my eyes he said, "Nice clams."

I laughed, "That was so horrible it's almost adorable."

Hottie Green Eyes smiled, running his tongue along his bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth absentmindedly. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but Puppy Dog Eyes cleared his throat. He gave his shorter companion a warning look before turning back to me with an apologetic glisten in his eyes and forced a smile.

"Hello," Puppy Dog Eyes said, "Are you True Bennett?"

"Yep," I said, not missing a beat as I tore my eyes away from Hottie Green Eyes, "Who's asking?"

"I'm Agent Mercury," Puppy Dog Eyes said, "This is my partner Agent Taylor. We're with the FBI. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?"

I eyed them closely. At first glance one could believe that they were FBI agents, maybe. But with the unprofessional Ser Flirts-A-Lot, I doubted they were. They did seem like they had plenty of practice at faking, though. Judging by Agent Mercury's tone this wasn't his first rodeo. I got the feeling they had seen a lot of shit in their day, horrible kinds. They seemed kind of young to be FBI. Well, there was only one way to find out.

"Can I see some identification, please?" I asked, holding out both my hands.

As if they had expected this to happen, the men reached into the jacket pockets and simultaneously pulled out their badges. Flipping them open they held them out to me. The action was so fluid you would think they rehearsed it. I took the badges and examined them closely. They badges were damn near perfect, but I found the mistake. Still, I was impressed.

These boys were not off to a great start on the trust factor. Anyone going through all this trouble to fake being FBI had to be the world's greatest conmen, but why would anyone want to fake FBI? Last I checked that was still illegal. So why bother? I had heard tails that some hunters like me would fake US officials to gain information. If they were hunters, did that mean they knew about me? If they did why didn't they just say so? Or they were really FBI and I had just gotten rusty at spotting fake ID's. My interest was effectively in overdrive and I had to know for sure.

"Okay," I said, handing them back their badges. I stepped to the side, holding the door wider to allow them to move inside. I gestured with a broad stroke of my arm toward the living room, indicating for them to press further into the house, "Come on in."

"Thanks," Agent Taylor said, giving me a sideways glance as he passed.

Agent Mercury fallowed behind, giving me another apologetic look and a nod of thanks. I smiled at him, shutting the door behind them, but couldn't shake the uneasy feeling. What did Agent Mercury have to apologize for? The anticipation was killing me.

Motioning with my head, I led the two men into the living room. Pausing next to two white recliners that faced a white three-seat couch, I turned to face them, my politeness bordering sarcasm as I said, "Please, have a seat." They did, and I sat across from them, folding my hands in my lap and said, "So what's this all about, 'gents?"

"Miss Bennett," Agent Mercury started, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He gave me a serious look before continuing, "We have reason to believe that your life is in danger."

I raised my eyebrow, "Danger?"

"What danger?" Claire said, rushing into the room, "Did someone say True is in danger?"

While I was half focused on the hysteria of Claire's tone, I noticed Agent Taylor checking her out. I swallowed an unwanted blimp of jealousy as Claire sat down on the couch next to me with enough force that the ripple caused me to bounce. She was so close she was practically sitting on my lap and I had to scoot an inch away. She turned into me, with her body half facing me so that our knees touched and took my hands in hers, holding them tight. I pumped my fingers to keep them from going numb because of her death grip.

"I'm fine," I smiled at her reassuringly, before turning back to the two agents who had upset my girl. They better be hunters, because if this was a con someone was about to get their asses kicked, "I am fine, _right_?"

"Well, we found some evidence in a case that led us to believe you are being hunted," Agent Taylor informed us.

What else was knew?

"What kind of evidence?" Claire asked, her voice breaking on the last word. Her grip on my hands tightened causing her nails to dig into my skin. I bit down on my lip to keep from gasping at the pain and pulled my hands away. I managed to wiggle my hands free and laid them on top of hers, holding them in place. Her hands shock with fear underneath mine.

"Do the names Arianna, Arielle, Aria, Ariel, or Ariaden mean anything to you?" Agent Taylor asked.

I smiled, despite the instant dread I felt settling over my body, and my fingers tightened around Claire's hands. I focused hard to keep my breath even as my hands grew cold and my vision begun to gloss over. I blinked hard, turning my gaze to the table, pleading with my heart to slow down. I clenched and unclenched my jaw before looking back up at the Agents. Only a second had gone by, but in the second they knew something was up.

Arianna Tabatha Marie Van Helsing. That was my birth name. Though you wouldn't know that from my birth certificate, which said my last name was Knight. Born in London, England on January 6th, 1983, I was the third of what would eventually be five kids. True was a nickname I had developed as a kid for my uncanny way of telling everyone the truth when the lie wasn't necessary. Only a few ever called me that, including Claire, who didn't even know my real name.

When I had left Europe I had created a completely new identity, taking the name True on full-time. I dusted off my American accent and I created a new life as True Danielle Bennett, born July 16th 1983 in New York City, New York. No one knew the truth, not even Claire, who I had only told that I had left my family and past behind in order to live a more normal life. She didn't know I was hiding, or why.

"Sounds like someone has a slight obsession with the name," I said, regaining my composure, "But I'm not sure how that pertains to me."

Agent Taylor snatched the blue folder out of his partners hand and held it open in front of him. He began tossing out picture after picture onto the coffee table, without taking his eyes off me, and said the name that belonged to each picture, "Arianna, Arielle, Aria, Ariel, and Ariaden. Are you honestly telling me that you have no clue who they are?"

I glanced down at the five pictures in front of me. They were all of girls with dark hair and eyes who looked suspiciously like me. Girls with names similar to mine. Bile bubbled in my chest as I realized what the Agents were saying. These five girls who could be my twins were killed because someone was looking for me. They were probably dead, and if their deaths had led the agents to me, then the one who had killed them couldn't be far behind. My secret identity had been compromised and now Claire was in danger.

"What happened to them?" Claire asked in a squeaky voice.

I clenched my jaw as Claire pulled one of her hands free from mine. I wanted to snatch her hand back and keep her away from the agents and the hell they dumped at our front door, but couldn't without revealing I knew something. Instead I watched her closely as she picked up one of the photos, her eyes glossing over with tears she fought back. I gripped the hand I still head tighter, to reassure her that I was still here for her.

"They were murdered," Agent Mercury said as gently as he could, but Claire still gasped and flinched back, dropping the photo back onto the coffee table, "By a man who is still out there."

"We also found these," Agent Taylor said as he tossed a stack of what looked like news paper articles on to the table.

I was forced to release Claire's hands so I could pick up the papers. I thumbed through the articles, reading the headlines. They were describing strange deaths and disappearances, the same articles I had read before. They were all cases that I had investigated over the past year since I had come back to America. It was the last thing on the table that caught my attention. It wasn't a news paper article but the gloss back of a photo that read 'True Bennett, Salt Lake City, Utah.'

I picked up the photo, reading the words over and over again before flipping it over. It was a candid shot of me, where I was looking slightly toward the camera, almost as if I had known I was getting my photo taken. I was dressed in my hunter gear with backgrounds I recognized as a gas station in New Jersey I had cleaned up in. I could still see the black goo stuck in my hair from the ghoul I had killed. Someone was definitely in my fan club. I gritted my teeth; this was a bad time to be out on my own. There were plenty of monsters out for Van Helsing blood, but this one was making it personal.

I couldn't risk putting anyone else in danger, especially not Claire. I would not be the hunted. I'd leave Salt Lake and find whatever was hunting me and kill them before they hurt anyone else.

"Well," I stacked the articles and photo's into a neat pill and slid them back across the coffee table, "This is very interesting. Thank you for bringing it to my attention."

"That's it?" Agent Taylor asked, "We tell you you're in danger, that people have died, and all you can say is _thanks_?"

"What do you want me to say?" I asked, "I'm sorry they died, but I don't know what it has to do with me."

"What about the fact they all look like you?" Agent Taylor demanded, "Or why anyone would want to fallow you?"

The agent's tone was a few ticks shy of being accusing. I didn't like what he was implying. Pretty or not, I'd punch him so hard it'd make his partner dizzy.

"I don't know anything," I said, locking my brown eyes with his green ones, my voice taking on a harsh sarcastic tone, "I haven't noticed anyone fallowing me or anything, but if you leave your card, I'll give you a ring if that changes."

"Okay," Claire said, raising to her feet so fast she nearly knocked me over. That might have been her plan, because some of the static tension between the agent and I dissolved. "I just remembered I didn't offer you gentlemen anything to drink. Would you like some tea or water?"

"They're good," I said at the same time as Agent Taylor said, "We're fine."

"Right," Claire said softly as she slowly sunk back into the couch deflated. I got the feeling that she just wanted to be able to do something. She wasn't a hunter; she didn't live in the darkness like I did. Making tea was probably the only way she felt she could help.

"We understand this is a lot to take in," Agent Mercury said, the voice of reason. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. "I just have a few more questions, if you don't mind? They may seem a bit strange, but I have to ask."

I took his business card when he held it out to me, "Why not?"

"Have you noticed any flickering lights or smelt something like rotting eggs?" Agent Mercury asked cautiously.

I kept my face perfectly natural, but I felt Claire stiffen besides me. I couldn't tell if the agents- _hunters_ \- noticed. So they weren't FBI agents at all, go figure. I have never really been a fan of other hunters. Not because I liked working alone, in fact I hated it, but because you never knew what kind of hunter you were going to get, the kind that just wanted to help or the ones out for revenge who didn't care who got hurt along the way. Just like in the Circle and most of those people where crazy. With these guys showing up out of the blue, after a year without any incidents, was suspicions. I couldn't trust them with the truth.

So I wasn't surprised when the sarcastic response that slipped out was, "Nope, haven't noticed anything like that. Sorry."

Agent Taylor gave me suspicious, unbelieving look. Agent Mercury stood cutting off any response Agent Taylor had, as said, "Okay, thank you for your time."

"I'll show you out," Claire said quietly, standing along with Agent Taylor. She motioned with her hand for them to fallow her toward the door. I remained where I was.

I stared down at the business card, waving it with one hand so it beat against the palm of the other. It was a plain white square with Agent Mercury's business, cell phone, and fax number, along with the FBI logo. I wonder what would happen if I called the business number...

"Hey, listen," I glanced up to see Agent Taylor starring down at me. His face was somber, his brows pulled close together. It was a look that slowed my heartbeat, with a calming feeling. He took a deep breath before continuing, "If at any time you do need help, day or night, call us. We _can_ help you."

I was taken aback by the sudden concern in his voice. He suddenly seemed old beyond his years; though I knew he couldn't be much older than me. The years as a hunter had not been kind to him. It had hardened him, but it had also probably turned him into an amazing hunter. The look in his eyes, in that moment, I trusted him completely. It was unnerving.

"Um, o-okay," I stumbled. I couldn't remember the last time I had been speechless. The way he looked at me, like the whole world rested on his shoulders, all I could do was watch as he turned and walked away.

Claire thanked the hunters again before shutting the door and stomping over to me, "Rotting eggs and flickering lights? They are hunters, aren't they? Is there a demon after you?"

I blinked up at her; the worry and fear in her eyes were heartbreaking. I knew what she was thinking, that this might be the one time I got the hunters death that was coming for me. But what she didn't know was that there had always been something after me. It was after everyone in my family, and so far it was winning. Not just an ordinary, run of the mill monster, but a demon. This time I knew it was coming. This time I would send it to hell, or die trying.

I mentally shook myself. I needed to keep my cool, thoughts like that would do me no good in the long run. If the demon really has found me then I had little time left before it would rear its ugly head and I needed to stay strong. I had to be prepared, but that could wait till tomorrow. Tonight I would party, if not for my sake then for Claire's.

I slid my brave face on and stood up. I crossed the short distance between us and gave Claire a quick hug, relishing the warmth and familiarity of her embrace. I breathed in her perfume of lavender and shampoo before releasing her. She stared at me confused, her blue eyes round as saucers, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"We haven't had any flickering lights or smelt any sulfur," I said with a reassuring smile. I shimmied around her, "I deal with this stuff all the time, and so don't you worry your pretty blond head. Besides, I am the best hunter around."

Claire opened her mouth, but snapped it shut when I held up my finger. She rolled her eyes, "What do those names have to do with you, though?"

I paused, debating rather or not to tell Claire the truth, but thought better of it. While usually the truth was always best, knowing this truth could get Claire in the dead kind of trouble I wanted her to avoid. I'd tell her the truth when I told her the thing after me was dead. She'd understand, just like she always did.

"It nothing for you to worry about," I said, "I will have to leave, so I want you to go to your dad's and ward against all things dark side."

"Okay. Fine," Claire threw up her hands in defeat, knowing that there was something I wasn't telling her and knowing there was nothing she could do to out stubborn me. She swooped up the business card from my hand, "I'm keeping this. I don't care what you say. I will call them if I even feel the slightest cold chill."

Well, whatever made her feel safe, I guess. With a shrug I walked to the kitchen and finally got my glass of water. I chugged it, then slammed the empty glass done on the counter with a hard crack.

"Now then," I said, wiping a drop of water from my mouth, "Don't we have a party to rock?"

Claire shook her head but smiled. Tossing the business card on the counter, Claire grabbed our handbags and headed out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

The walls of the ballroom hosting the fundraiser had been covered in long, silk pieces of fabrics that stretched from the ceiling to the floor. Tiny electric fans had been placed behind them, causing the fabric to ripple like waves. The chandeliers that hung from the ceilings had been changed into elaborate and beautiful jellyfish that cast a golden light on the people dressed as different sea life animals. The tables where long, stretching across the back wall and decorated to look like a reef, hues of tans and browns colliding beautifully with bright colors. An array of foods, drinks, and desserts had been scattered evenly throughout them. The soft music of a live orchestra played classical music, and the occasional score of the Little Mermaid songs.

It was the people that swarmed around me that held my attention. While some had gone the same route as Claire and I, dressing in skimpy out fits. I watched as a women dressed as a jellyfish, her ass practically hanging out from under her tentacles, flirted with a shirtless man in green shorts holding a trident. A women dressed in silver dress with fishtails hanging off the sides laughed with another women dressed in a green scaled unitard and a man dressed as a sexy, and shitless, fisherman. Clearly he missed how this was supposed to be about saving the marine life, not ending it. Some people were dressed in less revealing outfits, like the man walking around in a full-suit dolphin costume, there was a woman with a bulky sea turtle outfit, and even a man dressed like an orca.

I watched each person closely as if they would attack at any moment. I have to admit, an hour into the fundraiser and I was already on edge. I thought I could get lost in the music and champagne of the benefit and forget that someone was stalking me, but I couldn't shake the feeling I was being watched. Every time I'd turn around I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, no one was watching me. It was weird; I was usually very good at noticing things. I really was getting rusty and paranoia didn't help.

Those two hunters had me all riled up. I've handled worse. I once used a grenade, laced with silver shrapnel to destroy a werewolf's nest. And Make no mistake: werewolf guts are hard as hell to get out of your hair. I could handle any demon and its bitches that tried anything. Always could, always will.

Who am I kidding? This was no ordinary hunt, and if it was the demon I thought it was, then this demon has been hunting me my whole life. This demon had killed countless Van Helsingr's before me. All this killing girls with my name, taking photos of me, it was all a game. Someone had been planning this for a very long time, and I wasn't about to lose.

I took a sip of my champagne, glancing at the people around me. Anyone of them could be possessed by a demon. My eyes fell on Claire who was sauntering over to me with yet another glass of champagne. I sighed, my first day off in over three months and I couldn't even get a decent buzz going. I was envious of Claire who was chugging her drink like it was water.

"Those guys were _so_ hot," Claire slurred, resting her head on my shoulder and wrapping her arm around my waist, "Am I right?"

"Totally," I said with an enthusiastic nod that made Claire giggle.

"To bad they were hunters," Claire said, sticking out her bottom lip in disappointment, "I can hardly handle you, I don't think I could handle if my boyfriend was one."

"Aw, poor baby," I wrapped my arm around her and hugged her tight. Hunters didn't usually stay in place, or come back to a place they'd already worked a case. Way too many questions. I was an exception since I wasn't actually directly involved with Claire's dad, I had just been observing from the sidelines.

"I know," Claire said grumpily. She paused, "I'm not gunna lose you again, am I?"

"No, babe," I said, "I'll never leave you again."

Ten years ago, Claire had a mental break down. For nearly a year after she had learned about demons, she would find away to get her hands on holy water and threw it in the face of everyone she came into contact with, including me. Eventually her father had her see a psychiatrist, and I wasn't allowed to have any contact with Claire at all. That only lasted a month.

Claire started to get massive panic attacks and demand to speak with me, but her father had refused. He thought that the only way she could move on was to forget everything that had happened, but after the sixth or seventh attack he gave in and Claire was allowed to call me. At first when she had an episode, and later whenever she wanted, including the rare occasion I was in America. Claire was better, but I still got calls at all hours of the day when she had an attack.

The mention of sulfur had to have her freaking out, which is probably why she was drinking so much. And why she fallowed me around the party like a lost puppy. She could hardly function without me, and I wasn't sure that was a good thing. I could die, and then where would she be? I'd have to find a way to make her stronger so she could survive on her own.

"Not fair," Claire said. For a second I thought I had spoken aloud. "Those guys where super hot."

"I hope you're talking about me, gorgeous," a well tailored young man asked, slipping up to us holding two more glasses of champagne. He was obviously from a rich family; his smile alone must have cost a bundle, with his neon white teeth. He looked like he was in his early twenties, like us.

Claire smiled happily and took the champagne the man offered. I blinked, having not even noticed that she had already finished her other one. When he offered me the other one, I held up my still half full (and only second) glass. He shrugged and took a sip of the one he held, turning his attention back to Miss Drunky-drunk.

"So where you talking about me, my beauty," he asked.

Claire blushed. If it was from the drink or the cuties smile, I couldn't tell. She giggled flirtatiously, "Maybe I was. You'll never know."

"Well, I do love a challenge," the man said holding out his hand palm up. Claire slid her hand in to his and he kissed her knuckles. "I'm Mitchell Miller, and who are you?"

Claire giggled again, "I'm Claire, and this is True."

Mitchell nodded his head in my direction, but his attention was complexly focused on Claire, "A pleasure to meet some strikingly stunning gals at such a stuffy affaire!"

I chocked on my drink, stifling a laugh. Was this guy for real? So cheesy. I did have to give him credit for being so creative with his flattery. Claire on the other hand was more focused on the fact that he was still holding her hand.

"Can I have this dance?" Mitchell asked her.

Claire's eyes shot to me for approval. She didn't need my say so but I nodded encouragingly anyway. Mitchell led Claire out into the middle of the dance floor, placing their glasses on a passing waiter's tray, and taking her in his arms for a graceful waltz. I kept my eyes trained on Claire, making sure I wasn't about to let her get lured away by some black eyed bag-a-dicks.

"Hello, Ms. Bennett," I jumped and spun around to find Hottie Green Eyes standing behind me, dressed in a orange mans tank top and green shorts.

"Who are you supposed to be?" I asked looking him up and down.

"Aqua man," Hottie said as he took hold of my elbow and led me to a less populated side of the ballroom, "We need to talk."

"What are you doing here?" I asked, "I thought we agreed I'd call you if I needed help."

"That was before," Hottie said.

"Before what?" I scoffed and pulled my arm free of his grasp and turned to find Claire through the thick of the crowd. I spotted her, still on the dance floor.

"Before me and my partner found out about the seven young girls that all died over the past week," Hottie asked, "You gunna tell me you know nothing about that?"

"Of course I do," I shrugged, "I live here remember? Last I checked they looked nothing like me."

"Okay, how about the fact that True Bennett didn't exist until a week ago?" Hottie said.

I turned to face Hottie, annoyed. Someone had done his research, so there was no point in lying about it now. I glared at him and said, "What of it? A lot of people change their names."

Hottie shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest, "You right, people who are being hunted by a serial killer often go into hiding."

"Do you have a first name, Agent Taylor?" I asked, crossing my own arms over my chest.

"Dean," Hottie said, looking down at me, slightly taken aback by my sudden question.

"Well, Dean Taylor," I asked, "What any business is it of yours if I changed my name or not?"

"Damn it, True, I'm trying to protect you," Dean hissed, leaning closer to me, "What are you running from?"

I huffed out a breath. He was try to help me, and for all I knew I could use it. I stared up into his bright green eyes, "Dean, I'm a hu-"

"Taylor!" Agent Mercury called as he rushed up to us. I raised my eyebrow at the fact he was dressed exactly as his partner. Last minute costumes, I guess. "I need to speak with you. Alone."

"Stay here," Dean ordered me, not even looking at me as he hurried after his partner.

Oh, hell no I was not staying here. I hurried after them, searching for Claire again as I went. I stumbled to a stop as my eyes fell on a man standing just behind Claire. He was at least in his late forties, and was staring at me with a twisted smile and pitch black. Hello, bag-o-dicks. I glanced toward Dean and his partner but they had already exited the back exit of the ballroom. I turned my attention back to the demon. He tilted his head to the side indicating for me to fallow, like I was that stupid, as he turned and begun walking toward the nearest exit. I raced after him, swinging by the nearest table for a bottle of water and blessed it under my breath as I left the ballroom.

Guess I was that stupid. But allowing some punk-ass demon to wander around wasn't my style. Trap or no trap I was going in balls blazing.

By the time I made it past the door the demon had gone threw he was gone. I stood in a deserted entryway by the front door, eyeing ever corner and shadow. Slowly opening my water bottle, I walked toward the back of the entryway where there were stairs that led to the next landing. I looked up on instinct. Leaning over the railing on the second floor was the demon.

"Well, well," the demon said, his voice coarse as if his host was a lifetime smoker, "If it isn't the littlest Van Helsing. I must say, I'm not impressed."

"Give me a minute," I countered, inching my way up the stairs, "You'll be eating those words."

The demon barked out a dry laugh, "Oh, you think you can show me how all grown up you are? You should have stayed in the Circle, kiddo, it's not safe in this world without back up."

I paused. How is it demons always seemed to know everything? It was seriously annoying.

"You should have known better then to come after a Van Helsing," I said, "Not your safest endeavor."

The twisted smile slid back across the demons face, "We'll see."

The demon turned away from me and walked down a hallway. I heard the click of a door opening and fallowed suit. Once on the landing I took in my surroundings. I went into every fight expecting to be out numbered, so I wasn't caught off guard. This time was no different. Armed with only holy water and the silver knife I kept tucked in my hand bag my odds weren't looking good.

I couldn't run. Maybe I could call for the agents, but I didn't know where they had gone, and I hadn't grabbed their business card. There was no telling what the demon would do to the people down stairs if I took the time to find help. I had no other options.

Kicking off my high heels I continued after the demon. The only door that was open was about halfway down the hall. Keeping my wits about me, I inched into the room. A quick glance around the room told me it was empty. It was a study, complete with a heavy desk and fire place. It seemed perfectly normal. I walked a few steps further, lowering my water bottle just as the door slammed shut behind me.

Spinning around, I came face to face with the demon. Not hesitating I splashed the holy water across his face. The demon hissed, stumbling backward in to the door as his flesh burned and steam rose from the body parts of him that the water had hit. The air filled with the horrible smell of burning flesh that was so familiar it was almost like home.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus-"

The demon lashed out, whipping his hand out in an attempt to hit me. I ducked and took a step back. The demons hands hooked into the pearls of my bikini, pulling me toward him. I jerked back, causing the strings ripped. I stumbled back as the beads fell to the floor like rain. I splashed the demon again.

"Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio-"

Snarling the demon charged at me. In one swift movement he tackled me to the floor. Leaning over me, he pulled his hand back and drove his fist for my face. I dodged it, his hand slamming against the floor next to my head. I quickly took hold of his wrist and wrapped one leg under his arm, locking my ankle on his shoulder. The demon pressed his free hand against my throat, cutting off my air supply. I didn't bother trying to break his hold. Instead, I wrapped my other leg around his neck and rolled, locking the demon in a headlock and effectively breaking his grasp on my neck.

"Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus-" I wheezed, holding firm against the struggling demon.

The demon laughed despite my leg pressed into his throat. The fire place roared to life as huge flames exploded from its mouth. The rug in front of fire place instantly burst into white hot flame. Like it had a mind of its own, the flame spread quickly. Consuming everything. Spreading in front of the door.

"You'll burn, Van Helsing!" The demon laughed, "She will have her revenge!"

"Audi nos!"

The demon yelled as its thick black smoke was forced from the moth of his victim. A few seconds later and the body went limp in my arms. I released him and quickly pushed my fingers to his throat. Dead. I felt a ping of sorrow but still pushed the body off me. I stood staring at the fire, no longer being controlled by the demon it now burned mindlessly across the room. Heaps of smoke filled the air, burning my eyes and filling my lungs. Coughing, I looked for another way out, finding only the window.

I rushed over to it and pushed it open. Feeding on the new oxygen the fire pushed toward me, desperate to burn and grow. Coughing so hard I thought I would puke up a lung, I gasped for air and looked down at the two story drop. I wasn't really like my choices. It was either jump or burn to death. As much as the thought of broken limbs horrified me, I'd rather not die.

I stuck one leg out of the window, straddling the ledge and peered down at the bushes below steadying myself. I swung out my other leg and-

"True!" I looked up at the sound of my name and saw Dean racing across the grass toward me. I couldn't help the relief that buzzed through me. What the hell was he doing out there?

The hunter stopped underneath me and held out his arms, "Hurry, jump!"

I did. I pushed away from the windows ledge, aiming for his arms. Air rushed past me as the ground hurried to meet me. I slammed into Dean, knocking us both down, me on top of him. I pushed myself on to my elbows, my face inches from Dean's. We laid there panting, staring at each other. My senses launched into over drive.

He felt strong beneath me. The bare sink of his stomach where his shirt had risen pressed firmly against my on stomach. His hands rested against my hips, his fingers pressing into my skin. Our breaths begun to harmonize, still panting, but no longer from the near death experience. The world faded, and for a fraction of a second, we were the only two in the world.

Then fire exploded from the window above us. Dean rolled so he was on top of me, his body shielding me from the debris that fell around us. He launched to his feet, pulling me up along with him. Dean grabbed hold of my hand and we started running away from the building. We must have run a whole block before my body shuttered to a halt and I crashed to the concrete coughing up my insides.

Dean knelt down next to me, placing his hands on my arm and waist to steady me, which was a good think because I felt like I would collapse at any second. I leaned against Dean, closing my burning eyes and trying to breath normal. Dean's voice was soft in my ear when he said, "Are you okay?"

"Your phone," I wheezed, "I need your phone."

He shot me a questioning look, but reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. I flipped it open and dialed Claire's number. She answered on the third ring. I sighed with relief.

"Hello?" She asked. Her voice shook with fear and she had sobered up. An image of her pacing back and forth and chewing on her nails passed through my mind.

"Claire, it's me."

"Oh, thank god!" Claire yelled into the phone. "What happened? The whole building is on fire! They said some people are still trapped inside! Where are you? Are you okay? Is it the demons? What do we do?"

Claire paused to take a deep breath and I quickly said, "It is a demon, and it's after me. Don't worry, I'm safe. Just go home with your dad and salt all the windows and doors. I'll come for you when it's safe."

"Okay," Claire said, sobbing into the phone, "Just promise you will come."

Way to pull at my heart strings, kid. "I promise."

Hanging up the phone I handed it back to Dean. He eyed me suspiciously, "You know about demons?"

"We obviously have a lot to talk about," I rasped, "but we should get somewhere safe."

Dean helped me to my feet before flipping open his phone again and pressing one on the speed dial, "Sam, it's me. I got the girl. Meet us back at the car."

Somewhere safe sounded amazing, as long as it had a hot shower and food. Taking hold of my arm, Dean led me down an alleyway not far from us. Before we turned every corner Dean would peek around with his gun at the ready before nodding to me that it was safe. I tripped and stumbled, stepping on rocks and broken pieces of glass as we hurried along. I groaned inwardly but didn't complain. I just wanted to get out of here. It took us less than ten minutes to reach his car. Puppy Dog Eyes- Sam- was already there. None of us said anything. Just filled into the car, a black Impala, and zoomed off into the night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four:**

The safe place turned out to be a dingy, stain covered, extremely crappy, probably cockroach infested hotel room. Standing barefoot in the middle of the room, I debating rather or not I wanted to take a shower. I was covered in ash and sweat, my makeup felt like a thick layer of goo on my face and my left foot was bleeding. Overall, I felt gross. Did I want to risk a sexually transmitted decease by taking a shower? No… well, maybe yes.

A hot shower sounded really good right now. Just the thought of it sent a shiver of anticipation across my body. I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling out all my bobby pins and placing them on the dresser by the TV. Exhaustion hung on my limbs, making it a chore to move. Now that the adrenaline had worn off I could feel aches and pain all over my body. My lungs burned, my head pounded, and I was cold. And tired. I had forced myself to stay awake, to square my shoulders and retain my ever calm appearance.

"Here," Sam said suddenly, stepping out of the bathroom.

I turned to face him, noticing the first aid kit he held in his hands. I smiled gratefully at him, "Thanks."

"Yeah," Sam said as way of thanks. He motioned for me to sit on the dresser, "Go ahead and sit up there."

I did as I was told, leaning back against the dresser and placing my hands behind me for balance as I pulled myself up and sat. Sam knelt down in front of me; he shot me a quick glance before turning his gaze back to my bleeding foot and gently took hold of my leg, his touch surprisingly gentle for a hunter, and balanced my heel on his knee. I watched his fluid moves as he inspected my foot, before opening the first aid kit and pulling out an alcohol wipe and tore it open. I flinched slightly as he begun to clean my foot and adverted my gaze.

My eyes fell on Dean. He was seated in a chair by the window where the only table had been placed. He turned toward us after peaking out to see if there was anything suspicious lurking in the night, before his eyes fell on me. I felt a blush slide across my checks, feeling the phantom touch of his hands on my hips. A look I didn't quite understand flashed across Dean's face before he turned back to the table. He had laid out his gun, taken it apart and now he began cleaning it. Was that supposed to be a comfort or a threat or just away to keep his hands busy?

"Start talking," Dean ordered in a gruff voice, not bothering to look at me.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," I said, my snarky attitude matching his distant one. I shook my head at Dean's gun, "I can't take you seriously while you're dressed like Aquaman."

"Okay. I think it's safe to say we are all hunters," Sam interjected. He tossed the blood stained alcohol wipe into the trashcan next to the dresser and pulled out a large square Band-aid he placed against the majority of the bottom of my foot, covering the cut. He smiled up at me, done, and stood.

"I'm pretty sure it's not safe to say anything, Sam," Dean responded. Jeez, what happened to the guy who had risked his life to save mine? The guy I shared that moment with?

"I'm Sam Winchester," Sam said, before pointing to his partner, "This is my brother, Dean."

I gave them a sickly sweet smile, "I'm Arianna Tabitha Marie _Van Helsing_ , but you can call me True."

"Van Helsing?" Sam scoffed, looking first to me, then Dean, and then back again, "As in-"

"Yes, as in Abraham Van Helsing. I'm his descendent," I waved my hand dismissively.

"But he's not real," Sam said, staring at me with amused disbelieve.

"Neither are werewolves, vampires, ghost, ghouls, and demons," I rattled off, "They say unicorns aren't real either, but they're still running around Scotland like they own the place."

Sam's eyes widened at me in astonishment. He opened his mouth, but Dean cut him off.

"You lied to us," Dean said snapping the barrel of the gun into place as he rebuilt his gun, "You knew something was after you. Not telling us was dangerous."

"You lied to me first, _Agent_ ," I shot back, "Yeah, I knew something was after me, but it's complicated. I didn't know for sure if it was who I thought it was, _or_ if I could trust you."

"And what is it you think it is?" Dean asked, growing impatient.

"A demon," I said. I swallowed down the lump in my throat, not meeting either of their eyes, "If it is the demon I'm thinking of, it has been around a long time. I've been hiding from if for as long as I can remember."

"Is that why you changed your name?" Sam asked.

I nodded, "Yeah, that's a part of it."

"So what happened tonight, then?" Sam asked, sitting down on one of the queen sized beds and disgracing the first aid kit behind him.

"I saw a demon, slapped a one way ticket to hell on his ass, but not before he set fire to the room," I folded my arms across my chest, thinking back to that moment. I rubbed the goose bumps on my arms.

"So it's over then?" Dean asked, looking impressed, "Case closed?"

"Not exactly," I said with a sarcastic nod, "The demon mentioned another demon coming for me. But yeah, for you case closed. You guys, you don't need to worry about me. I got this."

"Yeah, that's not gunna happen," Dean said with a shake of his head. He slammed a full magazine into the slot of his gun, the click of it somehow sounding like a silent promise. He stood up from the table, and came to stand a few feet from me. At 5'5" inches I was average height for a woman. Dean was only a little over a head taller than me, about 6'1", but he still seemed to tower over me. "You're stuck with us, sweetheart, at least until we gank this son of a bitch."

I blinked up at him. I could feel the hate he had for these demons radiating off of him in waves, a hate much deeper than simply not wanting them all dead. He had a bone to pick with them. Dean fixed an unwavering gaze of determination on me, and like magic my heart rate slowed. There would be no talking him out of this. Even if I said no, he'd find away to intervene. Just like tonight. They must have been fallowing me, and I was glad. For the first time since my father had died, I actually felt safe. I wanted him to stay with me.

"Fine," I said, slightly more eager then I had meant, "We'll work together."

"Good," Dean gave me a satisfied look, "Then we need to figure out why this demon is after you. Pissed anyone of lately?"

"I'm a Van Helsing," I said, "I piss demons off just by breathing."

"But you said this demon has been after you for a long time," Sam said, as Dean returned to his spot at the table. "Why?"

"The Van Helsing's, even before they where the Van Helsing's, have been hunting monsters for hundreds of years," I explained, "Millennia even."

"So you've always been a hunter?" Dean asked, eyeing me closely and looking slightly disappointed.

"All my life," I said, confused at the look, "Now don't interrupt. Before I was born, my Aunt Rosemary killed a demon, actually _killed_ it as impossible as that seems." Sam and Dean shared a look, but I ignored them. "The demon she killed had a lover. One who swore to eradicate the Van Helsing bloodline. So it's been hunting us down ever since."

"What about the rest of your family?" Sam asked with a pity filled look, suddenly realizing what I was implying, "Are they- I mean, can't you go to them for help?"

"The only one left is in England," I said. Even if she could look past the last time we had seen each other, there was a chance she wouldn't get here in time. I wasn't about to wait around for her, either.

"Then you'll just stick with us," Dean said as if that were the simplest thing in the world, "The demon will show up eventually and we'll kick its ass."

"I appreciated your confidence," I said with a smile.

"Okay, then" Sam said, sharing a look with Dean. There was a silence of an unspoken conversation between them, clearly agreeing that that was the end of the discussion. Sam turned back to me, his tone taking on a forced nonchalance, "So, if your family has been around for so long, you've got to have access to a lot of information, though, right? Like how to break a demon deal?"

"Sam, don't," Dean gave Sam a sharp look.

Interesting subject change. The air in the room became thick with enough strain I could cut it with a knife. I raised one brow in curiosity, looking from Sam's hopefully look to Dean's pained one. Realization dawned, and I gapped at them, "Someone you know sold their soul?"

Dean sighed, looking downcast, "It's a long story."

A ping of sorrow shot through me. Which poor bastards did they know sold their? Or worse, which one of them did? Judging by Dean's lack of interest in finding a way to scratch the deal, I'd bet it was him.

"You have to have access to hundreds of years of information, right?" Sam stood and hurried over to me. If Dean felt tall, Sam was a giant, loaming over me so I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes, "Ways to break a deal?"

"I can't help you-"

"There has to be something," Sam said.

"She said no, Sammy," Dean said.

"Please," Sam flashed me those puppy dog eyes and my heart melted despite my resolve. The pleading tone of his voice could have made a stone cry, "There has to be something."

"Look, I'm sorry, but even if I thought there was a way to break a demon deal, I still can't help you," I looked around Sam to Dean, "I left the Circle. That's why I'm alone. Any information they have about this, I no longer have access to."

"The Circle?" Dean and Sam asked in unison.

"It's a league of hunters biased out of the U.K.," I explained, rubbing my forehead. This was exhausting, "It was started during the dark ages."

"But _the Circle_?" Dean scoffed. "Seriously?"

"I didn't make it up!" I snapped, "It was named after the Knights of the Round Table. Anyway, I left the Circle, so I can't help. Nothing short of finding the demon with you contract can help."

"But it was just named after the legend, right?" Dean asked, skipping over the bit about his deal, "I mean, they weren't real, right?"

"What are you stupid? Of course they were real," I took a deep breath to clam my growing temper, "I'm an open target and I'm in the hands of you two newbie's?"

"Hey!" Dean retorted, offended.

"Then why'd you leave?" Sam asked; bring the conversation back on point, but I could still see I had offended him as well. "If it was safer with them, why don't you go back?"

"The Circle isn't what it used to be," I muttered, "Its main focus was destroying evil at any cost rather than saving lives." Including the lives of it hunters, meaning me.

"So there's nothing you can do?" Sam asked. Was the first time I said it not enough? "A favor you could cash in?"

"Just drop it, Sam," Dean snapped in a harsh tone that even had me flinching back. He stood up from the table and turned his back on us, looking out the window.

Awkward.

I could understand where Sam was coming from. If my sister had sold her soul I'd want to save her, even if we weren't talking. Yet, at the same time, she would have brought this on herself. I know that sounded mean, but in the Circle it was illegal to sell your soul. If they found out they killed you, simple as that. I was raised to believe that if you where stupid enough to sell your soul then you'd get what you had coming to you. Nothing was worth eternal damnation.

I cleared my throat, but couldn't think of anything to say. I could bring up the fact that someone was trying to kill me, but somehow that sounded selfish. So I just sat there in the awkward silence, drumming my fingers against the dresser and swinging my feet back and forth. I hated awkward silences. All that awkwardness and silence of everything that wasn't said, but we all knew needed to be said, just hanging in the air. It made me twitch, so I focused my mine elsewhere.

I was so deep in this shit I didn't know how I'd get myself out of this mess. Whatever problems Sam and Dean had where huge and I wasn't sure where I fit in with this. Sam's focus was more on Dean rather than helping me and that could be a problem. Dean seemed to have his sight set on the task at hand, but his choices weighted on him. That could also be a problem.

This demon was bad news, and I didn't want to risk my life trusting two guys who wouldn't have my back. I could ditch them, but I didn't want to. It has been a long time since I worked in a team and I missed it. It was so much easier, and safer, to work with others. Not to mention it was less stressful, even if you worried about your teammates dying all the time. I've had to work with people I didn't trust before, I could do it again. I'd accept their help. It's the least I could do since they went through all the trouble of offering it and all.

I glanced up to find the silence was still stretching on. Finally Dean grabbed his car keys and tossed them to Sam. He said, "Why don't you get us some food, when you get back we'll figure out our next move."

As if on cue my stomach gurgled at the mention of food. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until then, "Food sounds amazing."

"Okay," Sam said softly. He glanced at me before grabbing his jacket and making his way to the front door, "Any request?"

"Steak," I said, watching him slide his jacket over his Aquaman outfit. The dark leather of the jacket did not match the bright orange and green, making him look silly. I smiled, "Medium well, baked potato, and a side of seemed broccoli."

"Burgers it is, then," Sam gave me a half smile before leaving. The door closed with a soft click behind him.

I sighed, and turned to Dean, "I'm gunna get cleaned up."

I jumped off the dresser, flinching when my injured foot slammed against the floor, turned and disappeared into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind me. I turned on the shower and looked at myself in the mirror. I surprisingly didn't look as bad as I felt. My hair was a just woke up kind of messy, my mermaids outfit was dirty and torn, and despite the smudges of ash across my checks my makeup wasn't running. My props to Claire. I stripped out of my mermaid costume and underwear tossing them to the side. I stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain shut.

The water felt amazing, just as I predicted it would, and the bandage on my foot stayed in place. With the heat blasting I stood with my face toward the water unmoving, letting the water wash away all the grossness that weighed me down. I basked in the feel of it for a few extra minutes before I turned away. I use the complementary shampoo to clean my hair, and then practically used the whole tiny bottle of conditioner to detangle my hair. I scrubbed my body and face with the complementary bar soap until the water ran from murky grey to clear. The water had turned cold by the time I got out.

Using one of the neatly folded towels I wrapped it around myself. It was a thin, short piece of cloth, the hem brushing my upper thigh. Tucking the upper corner of the towel into the wrap around my chest, I collapsed onto the toilet seat. I looked down at my mermaid outfit with distain. I really didn't want to wear it and it was kind of ruined. That only left me one choice. I opened the door and peered out. Dean was still sitting at the table, but he had pulled out a computer and was staring intently at the screen, clicking the mouse pad ever so often. He'd also changed into a black t-shirt and jeans, his bare feet bounced against the wood flooring in boredom.

I marveled at the arch of his back, his shirt pulled tight across his broad and muscular shoulders. His jaw, which was covered in a day's worth of stubble, clenched and unclenched as he considered whatever he was reading. He lifted his free hand, running his fingers through his thick hair. I clenched my hands into first to fight the sudden desire I had to walk over and do the same. He really was stunningly handsome.

Good god, what the hell was wrong with me? Dean was a walking neon sign of bad ideas. Now was not the time to allow myself to get distracted. Especially with a guy on the fast track to hell, no thank you. Not when my life was at stake. I was in deep, deep shit.

"Hey, Dean?" I asked, pushing through my train of thoughts.

"Yeah?" Dean asked. His gaze found me as he leaned back in his chair. A look of desire and lust spread across his face as his eyes trailed down to the towel. The look both exited me and made me nervous.

"Do you have anything for me to wear?" I asked, pointing behind me, "My clothes are kind of ruined."

"Um, yeah," Dean pulled his eyes from me and stood. He walked over to one of the duffle bags and pulled out a long sleeved, button up, flannel shirt. His eyes found mine again and he walked over to me, holding his shirt out for me to take.

"Thanks," I said, taking hold of the shirt. I pulled it, but Dean didn't let go.

"You're welcome," Dean said in a husky voice, stepping closer.

He was directly in front of me now, our hands holding the shirt brushed against each other. Slowly Dean reached up his other hand and ran his fingers along my check, brushing my hair back as he tucked it behind my ear. He leaned forward, closing the distance between us, and pressed his lips against my temple.

"Now that's a horrible idea," I said, meeting Dean's eyes. The lust in his eyes was enough to make my knees weak.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Dean said softly, taking another step forward.

My body caved of its own accorded and I leaned into him. Dean took me by the chin, tiling my face toward his as he closed the distance between us, pressing his lips against me. The world went black around us and despite my better judgment I kissed him back. Dean lips left mine as he trailed burning kisses down my neck. He dug his teeth into the sink where my neck met my shoulder, causing me to gasp. I nibbled on his earlobe in return. That was enough for Dean.

Shirt forgotten, Dean released it, wrapping his arm around my waist as he buried his other hand in my hair, nipping his way along my jaw line, returning his lips to mine. I tossed the shirt behind me and allowed my hands to slide across his shoulders, pulling at his shirt until the tangled into his hair, holding his against me. Dean's hands moved along my body, finding the tuck of the towel, his fingers slowly beginning the towel free. I knew what was about to happen, but I couldn't stop. I wanted to kiss him. I moved my head, brushing my lips against his.

The door to the hotel room flew open with a bang as Sam walked into the room. I jumped way from Dean, holding the lose towel against me as Sam's eyes fell on us, a sly smile playing on his lips as he realized what had been happening. He was holding a brown bag and drink tray.

"Uh, hey guys, hungry?" Sam asked around a chuckle.

Dean ran his thumb across his bottom lip and he turned to face his brother, looking slightly annoyed, "Starving."

Embarrassed, I gave Sam a small smile, the blush on my face made me feel like a tomato in the sun. I cleared my throat and stepped back into the bathroom, closing the door. I blew out a breath and glanced at myself in the mirror. Just as I thought, I was red with humiliation, but I smiled at myself. This, whatever it was, really was a bad idea, for so many reasons, but it had also been amazing.

I turned away from the mirror and snatched up the shirt from where it had landed and set it on the sink. My body was dried, so I just wrapped my hair in the towel and slipping back into my underwear. I discarded the towel and then I slid the shirt over my head. It was way too big, falling like a skirt across my thighs. I rolled the sleeves up to my elbows, made sure all the buttons were done (except for the top two.) I begun running my fingers threw my hair in an attempt to straighten it, and left the bathroom to face the two brothers.

Dean and Sam were sitting at the table, Sam was flipping through an old book that had probably seen better days, and Dean had just taken a massive bite out of a cheese burger. They paused and looked up at me. Dean's cheeks were puffed up from the food, and that same sly smile was still on Sam's lips.

Dean swallowed his food and flashed me a look that knotted my insides, "My shirt looks good on you."

Sam scoffed and Dean took another bite of his food, looking smug, clearly not as embarrassed as I was for being caught. I bit my bottom lip and smiled at him, two could play at that game.

"Imagine how good it would look off of me," I retorted. Dean nearly choked on his burger and I gave him my own smug smile. Sam chuckled and shook his head at me.

I walked over to the table and plucked up one of the containers of fries, "So, what are we gunna do?"

A pause as the Winchester exchanged a look. Sam said, "The demon will probably attack you again, and soon. It would be more likely to do that if you where alone."

"What?" Dean snapped, "And let the demon kill her?"

"You heard her, Dean," Sam said, "She's a hunter. She could handle it. And we'll be there to back her up."

"I am not letting her but herself in danger," Dean argued.

" _Her_ is right here," I said, waving my hand for attention and annoyed they were treating me like I was invisible. "I'm not a child. I can make my own choices."

"This is stupid," Dean said. He put down his burger and whipped his mouth on a napkin. I could see the wheels turning as he tried to think up a better plan. "It's not happening."

I walked away and sat down on the bed, "It might be the only way." Both eyes turned to me. "The demon today was child's play, easy. The next one will be ten times worse. It will be the real deal."

"All the more reason you shouldn't go around with a huge sign that says 'I'm here, kill me.' Its suicide," Dean leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm done hiding," I stood back up. I wasn't about to back down, "I have spent my life protecting this world. I don't want to be afraid to live in it now."

"True-"

"Tomorrow I'm going back to Claire's," I said, cutting Dean off, "I will let this demon find me or I will find it, and I will send it straight back to hell. With or without your help."

"Fine," Dean sighed, but he didn't look happy, "but if we are going after the demon, then we are going to kill it. I don't want to risk it getting out of hell and coming after you again."

"How do you suggest we kill it?" I asked sarcastically, "I know my aunt killed a demon, but I don't know how she did it."

Dean stood up and walked over to his duffle bag that sat on the bed behind me. He dug around before pulling out an old gun. He held it out to me, almost reluctantly. Forgetting my fries, they fell from my hands as I took the gun. I flipped it over in my hands in amazement.

It was an old six shooter, worn from years of use, made during the nineteenth century. The barrel was made with iron, perfectly detailed with the words 'I will fear no evil' craved into it in Latin. The handle was smooth wood with a pentagram etched into it. It fit perfectly into the folds of my hand.

"This gun was made by Samuel Colt," I said, amazed.

Sam and Dean shared a look, the suspicion rising. Sam stood and took a few steps toward me, "How do you know that?"

I scoffed, "Who doesn't know that? My dad told me the stories, showed me the pictures. I thought it was just a legend. _Samuel Colt and the Gun that could kill Anything_. It was a fairytale. It really can kill demons?"

"Yeah," Dean held out his hand.

I handed it back to him. I understood why Dean had been so reluctant to hand it over to me. I wanted it.

"Then we're set," Dean tucked the gun into the back of his jeans, "Finish eating and then get some sleep. We'll need it."

"I love it when you take charge," I said with an eye roll.

After cleaning up my French fries and discarding them in the trash, I took Dean's seat at the table, which was covered in fast food wrappers. I grabbed one of the already open burgers and slid it across the table to me and took a bite.

"Hey! That's mine," Dean said, rushing over and swiping the burger out of my grasp.

I chewed the bite I had taken slowly, savoring the juiciness, and stared at Dean while I did it. He looked at his burger far more upset then he should have been at the bite that was missing. When he noticed me staring, he glared at me and I laughed. I reached into one of the bags and pulled out another burger. No one protested to me eating that one.

We ate our fill, downing the food with pop, before we turned our attention to the fact there were only two beds. My suggestion that I got my own room was shot down before I even finished suggesting it.

"Then what are we going to do? Share?" I asked before thinking that thought threw. Both pair of eyes shot to me, but my eyes only found Dean, and I suddenly remembered that all I was wearing was his shirt.

Dean opened his mouth, but Sam quickly said, "Why don't we just take turns sleeping. One of us could stay awake and keep watch. I'll even go first."

"If you think that's best," I said, giving Dean a wink.

Sam buckled down in front of his computer, still sipping on his soda. I walked over to the bed closest to me and put Dean's duffle bag on the floor. I crawled under the covers, and relaxed into the pillows. Dean dropped onto the opposite bed from me, face up and fully dressed, and shot me a glance. I smiled at him before rolling over so my back was to him. I closed my eyes and within seconds sleep overtook me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Before we start this chapter I would like to mention that I do not own King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. No copyright intended. Thanks!**

 **Chapter Five**

 _A crash like thunder rippled through the house, echoing off the walls. I shot up in bed, staring toward the thin light that peaked through my open door. Someone was shouting, followed by another crash, and then a gun shot. I jumped out of bed, tiptoed across my room as quietly as I could as I could and look out my door. No one was in the hallway. I edged the door open wide enough to slip through, looking both ways before I ran down the hallway to the stairs landing just as Daddy and Uncle Freddie ran past in a blur, the sound of their boots disappearing into the distance. I hurried down the stairs after them, moving to fallow when someone grabbed my shoulders and spun me around._

" _Arianna, baby," Mama said, kneeling down so that her chocolate brown eyes were even with mine, "Listen to me, you have to hide, okay? And don't come out until_ I _come get you, do you understand?"_

 _I nodded, "Yes, Mama."_

" _Go," Mama said. She straightened up and hurried around me, not looking back to see if I was doing as I was told._

 _I turned and ran through the house until I reached the dining room, it was my favorite place to hide when playing_ Hide and Seek _with my siblings. I hurried over to the China cabinet, opening the far right corner cupboard and crawled into the empty space. Pulling the door shut behind me, I grabbed hold of my knees and hugged the tight, listening for any movement on the outside. There were shouts, crashing, gun shots, screams. I closed my eyes, trying to drown it out, when the cabinet drawer flew open, ripping from its hinges._

 _I looked up to see pale blue eyes peering at me. I gapped in confusion, "Aunt Rosy?"_

 _Aunt Rosemary smiled at me, her lips twisted in a way I had never seen before. She reached toward me, gently tucking her fingers into my hair. I moved to go with her when I froze, noticing the blood the slid from a cut on her wrist, slit right through her anti-possession tattoo. I recoiled from her, but she clenched a handful of my hair and yanked me out of the cabinet and whipped me at the dining table. I rolled across it, knocking over a chair as I fell to the floor. Pain spread across my body, I felt like everything was broken and that a chunk of my hair was missing. Aunt Rosemary walked around the table and smiled down at me, her eyes pitch black. I screamed._

" _Leave her alone!" Echo's voice was shrill as she ran into the dining room, her pudgy eight year old face twisted in anger and determination._

 _She held up a canteen and splashed water across Aunt Rosemary's face. She screamed and reared back as her flesh burned, clutching at her face. Not wasting anytime Echo grabbed hold of my hand and hauled me to my feet, dragging me from the room. Echo led me through the house, bolting around corners until we reached a window at the far end of the house, furthest away from the commotion._

" _Good girl," Ryder called to Echo as he ran up to us, holding my four year old brother, Indigo, in his arms._

 _Echo beamed proudly, satisfied at a job well done, but her face fell when she noticed one of us was missing. Glancing behind Ryder she asked, "Where's Ember?"_

 _Ryder shook his head, passing Indigo off to me. Tears begun to burn hot streaks along my cheeks as I realized what he was implying. Our youngest sister, who wasn't even sixteen months old yet, was lost to us. I took a deep breath, clutching Indigo as tight as I could, kissing the top of his head. He looked up at me, his round hazel eyes even wider with confused. I attempted to smile at him, but it felt like a grimace on my face._

" _You'll have to go first," Ryder was saying to Echo as he pushed the window open, "So you can help the little ones down."_

 _I snarled at him. I was six, not much younger then Echo and we were practically the same height, but I didn't point that out. Echo nodded, not even questioning her orders. Ryder, who was only ten, took Echo under the arms and helped her out the window. He stuck his head out to make sure she was ready before taking Indigo from me and passing him through the window._

" _Ready?" Ryder asked me, not waiting for a response before he took hold of me the same he had Echo and helped me out the window._

 _Echo reached up, taking hold of my hand and attempted to support my weight as I dropped to the grass. Ryder jumped out after us and snatched up Indigo. With a quick glance to make sure we were able, he began to run. Echo and I fallowed after him across the back acre, away from the house. We didn't look back._

"True, wake up," Sam said.

His voice pulled me from the depths of sleep and I groaned, rubbing the memory of my six year old self from my eyes. I stretched, pressing my palms into the backboard of the bed and taking a deep breath, and coughed. My lungs still burned from the smoke inhalation. The memory of the fire and the demon drifted into my mind, replacing the distance past. The demon I've been waiting eighteen years for was back to finish the job. I focused on a random spot on the ceiling above me, and for the slightest second, I wasn't sure I was ready.

"You awake?" Sam asked.

"Yep," I said, the moment of weakness passed and I begun relaxing and sinking deeper into the bed, "So awake."

"Doesn't look like it," I could hear the amusement in Sam's voice and it made me smile.

"That's because I just told you that to get you to leave me alone," I mumbled.

Sitting up in bed, I stretched my arms over my head, arching my back and making weird stretch noises. I sighed, relaxing back into the softness of the pillows. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I took in the hotel room and frowned, feeling gross. I had just slept in this horrible bed in this horrible little room in God knows what kind of stains. I'd have to shower for a week just to feel clean again. It was sad that Sam and Dean had to sleep in these crappy rooms all the time. I didn't, but I came from money. Money I had managed to steal right out from under Echo's nose. I could have a good life, a better life.

I looked at Sam sitting at the table by the window, and wondered for a second if this had always been his life. I could imagine little Sam and Dean curled up on the couch watching Saturday morning cartoons. Or doing what Sam was now, clicking away at his computer doing research or looking for the next job, the light casting dark shadows over his face while his brows pulled together in concentration. What life these boys must have had?

Wait a minute. There was light pouring into the room from outside.

"Damn it!" I threw the blanket away from me and jumped out of the bed. I glanced at the alarm clock on the night stand. It was almost 9 o'clock in the morning. I spun around, there was no sign of Dean. An emptiness I didn't understand settled in my chest, and I promptly ignored it.

"You jackasses where supposed to let me help keep watch," I said, frantically looking for- I didn't even know- clothes maybe. Something, anything, to do that would make me feel useful.

"Oops, sorry," Sam smiled at me, clearly not sorry.

I sighed, letting myself fall backwards back onto the bed. I bounced once before sinking into the mattress. It was too late to be upset about it now. I was well rested, so who was I to complain? Feeling someone's eyes on my, I rolled over to find Sam staring at me.

"Where'd Dean go?" I asked, looking at the messy bed next to me.

"To get breakfast," Sam said. He cleared his throat, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I said, raising my eyebrows at him, "Why?"

"You were mumbling in your sleep," Sam informed me, "Didn't sound like it was a very good dream."

I chuckled, rolling out of the bed, "Yeah, it wasn't."

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Sam asked. I wondered over to the table and pulled out one of the chairs and slid into the seat.

"I was six," I said, looking into Sam's hazel eyes, "My family home had been attacked by a group of demons. The kicker is that it wasn't really a dream at all. It's what actually happened. It was the night most of my family had died."

"I'm sorry," Sam said, sitting up straighter in his chair. He propped his elbows on the table and leaned toward me, sympathy and pity in his eyes.

I shrugged, "Thanks. It was just my Dad and siblings after that, and our nanny."

"You had a nanny?" Sam scoffed.

"Yeah," I said, "How else was supposed to be watching us while our parents where on a hunt?"

Our nanny didn't just watch us, she schooled us as well. Core classes like weapons handing and fighting skills. English and math were thrown in as well, along with language skills. Pretty much it was our nanny's job to make us hunters. We were only as good as our nanny, and my nanny was badass.

"Did you and Dean grow up hunting?" I asked.

Sam chuckled, but it was humorless. He glanced away for a few seconds before he cleared his throat and turned back to me, "My mom was killed by a demon when I was a kid. Dad got into hunting after that."

"I'm sorry," I said, not really knowing anything else to say.

Such was the life of a hunter, everyone starts for a reason. Death being a huge one, and once you were in there wasn't usually an out. Very few lived to grow old and die of natural causes. Still I felt for him, and Dean. Death always seemed to bring people closer, and I had a new found understanding for the brothers. Revenge was a powerful motivator for men who couldn't let go. I had never wanted revenge, just survival.

"Yeah, well," Sam said, turning back to his computer and looking uncomfortable, "That's the breaks, I guess."

"Right," I said softly.

"So," Sam said, his voice brightening off the darker subject, "How'd you choose the name True?"

I smiled; remembering the first time anyone had called me that. "I think I must have been about thirteen and my older brother, Ryder, who was about seventeen at the time, had snuck out of the house to meet up with a girl. When he came home my dad caught him and asked where he had been. Of course, Ryder lied. So my dad asked the rest of us and the first thing out of my mouth was the truth. Ryder called me Truthful Ari after that, meaning it as an insult, and eventually it was just True."

Sam nodded with a small grin on his face, "Not much for lying, huh?"

"Well," I said as I stood, "With a profession that requires it on a daily basses I find it refreshing to tell the truth."

"That's a good way of looking at it," Sam said.

"I think so."

I walked to the bathroom, shutting the door, and grimaced when I saw my hair in the mirror. It sat in frizzy waves around my shoulders, tangled and knotted from sleep. I turned on the faucet and ran my fingers under the water before running them through the knots to try and tame it. When it was mostly straight, I dried of my hands. Not perfect, but presentable. I made use of the toilet, rewashed my hands, and then left the bathroom, coming up short when I saw Dean setting breakfast on the table. Oh, and it was more fast food. Great, my face would hate me soon when it started breaking out.

Dean turned around at the sound of the door opening, his gaze trailing over me before he turned back around, "You hungry?"

"Yeah," I padded over to them. I stopped next to Sam, and peaked over his shoulder as Dean handed me a frilly coffee with extra whip.

"That's a bit sexist, but weirdly thoughtful." I said. I took a sip, savoring the bitter taste of the coffee colliding with the sweetness of the caramel, "But so damn delicious. Thanks, it really hits the spot."

"You're welcome," Dean said handing me a Styrofoam container with a plastic lid. There were pancakes and sausages inside. I took it, sipping my coffee and glancing at the computer.

The web page Sam was looking at had _Dracula_ across the top with the words 'the Real Van Helsing' underneath it. I could have laughed out loud. None of what they read about my family would be real if they got it off fan made websites like this one. A massive conspiracy theory cover up by the Circle kept everyone from finding any real evidence Abraham Van Helsing had actually existed, or that he had children.

"I could tell you all you want to know about my family," I told Sam.

"We thought it would be best if we did some of our own research," Sam said, not looking me in the eye.

"Right," I took another sip of my drink, feeling the caffeine surge through every cell of my being energizing me, "You mean you don't trust me?"

"That's not what I meant," Sam said instantly, trying to convince me how sorry he was with his eyes.

"No, no. It's okay," I said, forging offensiveness, "I'm just putting my life in your hands."

"It's not trust that's the issue here, sweetheart," Dean said.

"Then what is the issue, _sugar_?" I asked, tilting my head to the side and staring him down.

Dean turned so he was facing me, looking down at me, "Something about this doesn't feel right, you gotta know that."

"What more do you want to know?" I asked them, "I thought I told you everything."

"You did. But, I mean, your acting like this is just another job. Are you not worried about this at all?" Sam asked, not looking convinced, "This is the demon that killed your whole family."

"I know," I looked them both in the eye, "But this is _just_ another job. I've accepted that my family is gone, and I'm not looking to bring them back. I just don't wanna die."

Silence descended over us once again. I stared at them, while they shared a look, a silent communication passing between them. I don't know what they were really thinking, or if they even believed me, but it was the truth. Revenge was an empty endeavor, and it never made you feel better, at least according to every book I've read and movie I'd seen. I learned to let go, and I wasn't interested in looking back now.

"What?" I asked finally, when the silence felt like a weight holding me down.

"Nothing," Sam said, still not looking me in the eye, "We just don't want you getting hurt."

"What is it about the fact that I've been hunting my entire life do you not understand?" I slammed my coffee and pancakes down on the table in frustration.

"That don't matter, sweetheart, you would have died in that fire if we hadn't saved you," Dean said.

"I would have saved myself," I snapped, placing my hands on my hips, "I _did_ save myself. Ya'll didn't show up till it was over."

"She's right, Dean," Sam said, looking at his brother.

Dean knew it too, because instead of saying something he walked away. He headed over to his bed and pulled out his duffle bag. He unzipped it and grabbed a shot gun. Popping it open and he held it up so he could look down the barrel. Realizing he wasn't going to dignify the truth by admitting his was wrong, I went ahead and changed the subject.

"A shot gun against a demon?" I asked. I picked up my pancakes back up and opened it. They smelt amazing. Like butter and syrup and heaven.

"With shells filled with rock salt," Dean said, sounding a little smug. He held out one of the shotgun shells to me.

I walked over and took it, turning it over in my hand, "Smart."

Dean took it back, his fingers brushing mine, "What? Did the Circle not think of that?"

I narrowed my eyes, but still smirked at his sarcastic tone, "Guess they just aren't as smart as you, jackass."

I strutted back to the table and took the seat across from Sam. I picked up one of the plastic forks Dean must have set on the table and dug into my food. I hadn't even realized how hungry I was until I took my first bite. The flavor exploded across my tongue and my stomach growled with anticipation. I moaned with delight and swallowed, shoveling another bite into my mouth.

Smiling at me Sam stood and begun helping Dean cram all their demon fighting tools into the duffle bags. When I had finished eating, Dean handed me one of the duffle bags and my handbag and led me out of the hotel room while Sam finished packing his computer. I fallowed Dean to where he had parked the Impala and waited while he unlocked the trunk and lifted it so I could toss in Sam's bags. Not waiting for Dean, I walked around and slid into the back seat of the car. A few seconds later Dean got into the front and started the engine.

"You don't have to sit in the back, you know," Dean said, looking at me in the rearview mirror.

I met his eyes in the mirror, "Why, Dean, do you want me to sit up front with you?"

Dean cracked a smile, shaking his head slightly, "That wouldn't be a bad thing is all I'm saying."

 _I'm No Angel_ by Greg Allman started playing though the radio and Dean turned it up a few notches. I watched Dean drum his fingers to the beat of the music, nodding his head along with it. I relaxed into the seat listening to the lyrics, and smiled. I don't know if they were more of a tribute to Dean or me, but the universe was defiantly talking. I turned in my seat, tucking my legs under me and leaned across the back of the front seat so I could talk to Dean face to face.

"Is this what we are going to be listening to the whole time?" I asked, smiling, "Oldies but goodies?"

"Yes," Dean said, turning around to face me. The movement put his face inches from mine. This close I could see slight traces of gold's and browns that appeared around his pupils in the light of the sun.

"Hi," I said softly, gazing in to his eyes.

"Hey," Dean replied, his voice was low and husky.

My smile faded and my heart rate speed up. I licked my bottom lip, pulling it between my teeth trying to hide my nerves. Dean noticed and swallowed hard, his eyes drifting to my lip. He reached up and cupped my chin in his hand, using his thumb to pull my lip free of my teeth. He leaned forward just as the passenger side of the car door flew open.

"Seriously?" I asked. I pulled my chin free from Dean's grip and turned to glare at Sam and he got into the car and shut the door, his computer resting in his lap.

"What?" Sam asked, looking back and forth between Dean and me.

"You deserve a reward for Worst Timing Ever," I said. I leaned back in my seat, disappointed.

Sam looked back and forth between his brother and me, "Oh, sorry, did you guys wanna be alone? 'Cause I can leave."

"Shut up," Dean said.

He shook his head and turned back around in his seat, shifting the car into drive. Sam shot me a smile and I couldn't help returning it as Dean floored the gas. We took off down the street with a screech of the tires with enough force that I slid across the seat and slammed into the door. Shooting Dean an irritated look I slowly buckled my seatbelt.

"Where to, sweetheart?" Dean asked, glancing at me in the review mirror.

I rattled off the directions as we drove along until we were pulling up to Claire's apartment. Usually, when I was going home I always felt a blissful happiness. It always felt right, but today it just felt off. Like Dean had said, something wasn't right. As we pulled into a space outside the apartment building I felt like something had shifted, like the calm before the storm.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

I got out of the car and stared at all the passing people in and out of the building. Some I recognized, some I didn't. All of them could be demons, or none of them. I lifted my chin and marched into the building, Sam and Dean by my side. Everyone gaped at the half naked girl and the two men who waited outside the elevator. The lady I had ran by when I was cover in vamp blood stepped off the elevator as the doors opened. She eyed my outfit and then the men next to me before giving me a disappointed look and hurrying past. I smirked as I stepped into the elevator.

We rode the elevator in silence and I dug around in my handbag for my key. When the doors opened on our floor we rushed to my apartment. I unlocked the door and threw it open and speed inside. Now that we were actually getting things moving, I was ready to get this thing over with. I walked into the living room and clenched my jaw at the sight before me.

The apartment was a mess. The couches and chairs had been overturned, the drawers were emptied and their contents thrown about, even the photos on the walls were smashed on the ground. The kitchen cabinets where open, dishes broken on the counters and floor. The coat closet was open, our coats, umbrellas, and the like were scattered across the floor. I clenched and unclenched my jaw, struggling to contain my furry. They could do whatever they wanted with me, but Claire was a no fly zone.

Dean and Sam maneuvered around the over turned furniture taking in the disaster, guns at the ready and looking to see if the ones who had created the mess were still around. I ran into my room, which was also trashed, but I didn't care. I was after one thing. In the middle of my room was a metal lockbox, about the size of a large lunch box, which I had heavily warded against everything I could think of. Luckily, they hadn't been able to break into it.

I sighed with relief and pulled the box off the floor, slamming it on my bed. Punching in the combination to open it, I looked over the family mementos of photos, a few small demon books, and a dagger with the family crest. Everything was there. Satisfied, I slammed the lid shut.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked.

Ignoring him, I turned my attention to my closet. My clothes had been scattered across my room but they all seemed to be in one piece. I grabbed a pair of jeans and slipped them on while I looked for a suitable t-shirt. I settled for am over sized red shirt that hung off one shoulder. I turned around to see that Dean was still watching me from the door way. I gave him a pointed look.

Dean took a breath, "Right, my bad."

He backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him. I shimmed out of Deans shirt and slipped on a bra and black tank top, followed by my shirt and a pair of socks and my running shoes. I quickly packed a handful of clothes (including Dean's shirt) into a bag, I shoved in a few of my favorite weapons for good measure and grabbed my safe before heading back to the living room, slipping on a pair of running shoes as I went.

"True," Dean called as I walked back into the living room. He picked something up from the counter and held it out to me. I walked over and took it, turning it over in my hands.

It was a picture of a girl with bright auburn, almost red, hair that flowed down her shoulders in thick waves and copper colored eyes. She would be pretty, with her soft check bones and button nose, if it wasn't for the stern and uninterested look on her face that made her feel unapproachable. It was her resting bitch face, and the majority of the reason no one really talked to her.

"Next victim?" Sam asked, coming to glance at the picture over my shoulder.

I shook my head, "No. This is my sister, Echo."

"Your sister?" Dean asked, taking the photo back. I could see the recognition in his eyes as he saw the resemblance. We both had big eyes, the same nose and chin, but I had more defined cheek bones and a more angled jaw line.

"I gotta make a call," I said, looking at the Winchesters, "I need you to use one of your phones."

Dean reached into his jacket pocket and held his phone out to me. I took it with a nod of thanks and walked back to the living room, snagging a hair tie that had been tossed carelessly on the floor as I dialed Echo's number.

The phone only rang once before it was answered, "What?"

"Echo," I said, "Good to hear your voice."

Echo's sigh of disappointment quickly overpowered my relief that she was alive, and my snarky attitude already bubbled to the surface. In her superior, and very British, manner Echo said, "I knew you would come crawling back to the Circle eventually."

I laughed, "As fun as that sounds, that's not what's happening. I just got my nails done and all that dirt would simply ruin it."

"Oh," Echo said, matching my attitude with her own, "Then what is this about, True?"

"It's back," I said, knowing by the sharp intake of breath that Echo knew what I was talking about.

"I was afraid of this," Echo said, announce dripping from her tone like acid.

"Why?" I asked, "What happened?"

"Remember when Ryder died?" Echo asked her voice softer then I've heard it in a long time. "And Dad ran off?"

I didn't have to respond. Of course I remembered. It had been the summer after my eighteenth birthday, Echo and I, along with two other members of the Circle, had been on a routine banshee hunt in the Northern Ireland when we got the call to return to the Circle immediately. We hadn't even gotten are mark, but the good little soldier's they all were had us marching home. When we returned they told us that Ryder had been killed by a demon and that our father had ran off for revenge. It was the last time we heard from him, and the demon. It was just me and Echo after that.

"According to the rumor," Echo continued, "Dad exorcized the demon, but died in the process."

"Why wasn't I been told this?" I demanded.

"We didn't know if was bloody true," Echo snapped, "No one could prove anything. The point is a Devil's Gate was recently opened in the States and a bunch of demons got out. If it were true I was afraid that maybe the demon that killed our parents was free, too."

"How long ago was this?" I asked.

"Just a few months," Echo said, "Why?"

"A few months," I mumbled, rubbing my temples, "It only took the demon a few months to find us."

"Us?" Echo repeated, "What do you mean us?"

"I got a picture of you," I said, blinking as some of my natural accent slipped into my words, "And some other hunters found a picture of me."

"Pictures?" Echo snapped, her voice rising, "Pictures!"

"Calm down, kitten," I said, flinching away from the phone.

"Don't. Call me kitten," Echo hissed into the phone.

I rolled my eyes, "Got any leads?"

"No," Echo snapped, but this time her anger wasn't directed at me, "No one seems to know anything around here."

I paused, "Echo, are you in the States?"

"Yes," Echo said, "Came here a month back to investigate. Why, are you?"

I ignored her question, "What are we going to do about this, Ecs?"

"Good question. Where are you, True?" Echo asked again, "I think it's time you come back to the Circle."

I turned around to look at Sam and Dean who where both watching me with an intense look. I cleared my throat and turned away from them, "I can't do that, Ecs. I'm sorry, but I left for a reason."

"Yeah, a rubbish reason," Echo snapped, "This is bigger than us, True. You can't be out there on your own."

"I'm not," I said, "I'll keep in touch."

"Arianna Tabitha Marie Van Helsing, don't you dare hang up the phone," Echo ordered.

"Really?" I said, "The full name?"

"True-"

I snapped the phone shut. Heaving a sigh I tossed the phone back to Dean who caught it with one hand, "Echo's fine. But we should probably go."

"Go where?" Dean asked.

"I don't know," I shrugged, "I got a lead, but I don't know how much of one it is."

"What is it?" Sam asked.

I quickly relayed what Echo had told me. Dean and Sam shared a look, a trait I was beginning to think I would be seeing a lot of. I could only hope they were thinking the same thing I was. Whoever had opened the Gate had to have some motive behind it; just releasing a bunch of demons seemed small in the long run. I needed to find the person who opened the Gate and figure out why, it might not lead me to the demon hunting me, but I had nothing else to go on.

"Look," I said, grabbing the Winchesters attention, "I understand if you guys want nothing to do with this. Devil's Gates are a big deal, but finding the thing responsible is the only thing I have right now."

"It's not that," Sam said, holding up his hand defensively, "We know about the Devil's Gate."

"You do?" I asked, curious.

"We already looked into it," Dean said, he shrugged a shoulder, "There were no leads. Right now Sam and I are trying to hunt down the demons that got out. Put a little balance back into the world."

"Oh," I said, slightly disappointed.

"You can come along," Sam offered, looking at me with enough sympathy to make me feel sorry for my own self. Dean shot Sam a warning look and I got the feeling he didn't want me to tag along, but Sam ignored him. "It's a lot safer then hunting on your own, and maybe you'll find a clue or something along the way."

I nodded slowly, appreciative of the offer, but my eyes kept drifting back to Dean who looked resistant. I shook my head, "That's okay. I'll be fine on my own. I just gotta say goodbye to Claire. Do you mind dropping me off at her dad's?"

"Sure," Dean said.

"Thanks," I said, turning toward the front door to hide the crushing feeling I felt in my chest.

I didn't turn around to see if Sam and Dean fallowed, and I flung open the door. I wasn't prepared for the fist that slammed into my jaw propelling me backwards. I dropped my bag and safe as I crashed into the floor, sliding several feet back as demons poured into the apartment, swarming around me like locust. Sam and Dean rushed forward but we were easily outnumbered by seven demons. I pressed my palms into the ground on either side of my head and pulled my knees up to my chin, with as much force as I could I launched myself to my feet. A demon stepped in front of me, blocking my path. It was the hot guy who had danced with Claire at the fundraiser.

He smiled at me, "Fancy meeting you here."

"Michael," I said, flashing him a sickly sweet smile, "Come here often?"

"He's called Mitchell," the demon corrected.

"Right," I glanced behind Mitchell at the fight that was going on behind him. The other demons didn't seem to care about me, they where to busy dealing with the Winchesters. It was three against one, but the boys seemed to be handling it. I kept my attention on the demon in front of me, "Sorry, Marvin."

"It's Mitchell," he stepped toward me, swinging out his arm with inhuman speed.

I dogged his fist at the same time as I grabbed hold of his arm. Using his thigh as a boost, I swung myself up so that we were both facing the same direction, placing my foot on his shoulder for balance. He reached his free arm up, grabbing a fist full of my shirt, and tried to pull me down. I somersaulted us forward, tucking in on myself as we rolled to the ground with him laid out on his back in front of me. Rolling on to my knees, I quickly brought my elbow down on the demons temple as hard as I could. It didn't knock him out, but it distracted him long enough for me to get back onto my feet.

Spinning from Mitchell, I ran toward two of the others who had forced a disoriented Sam to his knees. I round housed kicked one of the demons, a male, in the head before I grabbed the other, a female, by the hand and lifted it high and slammed my fist into her ribs. Both demons stumbled long enough for Sam to get back on his feet. He grabbed the male demon by the shirt and slammed him into a wall, landing a punch in its gut. I jumped onto a nearby upturned chair and launched myself up, spinning in midair and kicking the female demon in the chest knocking her down.

Landing on my feet I turned just as Mitchell reached for me, I dropped and slammed my fist as hard as I could into his family jewels. Demon or no he let out an angry howl, grabbing hold of his junk. I lunched back to my feet and grabbed a fistful of the hair on the back of his head to hold him in place and slammed my knee into his face, feeling more than hearing the smashing of his nose, then shoved him backwards. He fell, his eyes fluttering before he started getting back up.

I moved to kick him again but I was grabbed from behind and tossed into the nearby wall. The female demon stepped up and landed a kick to my ribs, knocking the air out of my lungs. I groaned in pain, clutching my rips, but managed to throw up my free arm to block the second kick in. The demon quickly landed a punch to my face before she straightened and brought back her leg for another kick, but she was ripped backwards before the blow landed. I looked up to see Dean throw her to the ground and leap onto of her, throwing punch after punch into her face. Blood splashed across the floor.

I didn't have time to be grateful; the same demon who had tossed me like a rag doll grabbed me again and threw me against the couch. My side slammed into it causing me to flip over, landing on the other side. I rolled to my feet despite the fact I could hardly breathe and turned to face my attacker. I leaned one hand against the couch and used my arm as a pivot to lunch myself over the couch and swung out my leg to kick the demon across the face. He stumbled, but didn't fall. I punched him in the chest, the spun and back handed him across the face.

I spun the opposite way to do it again, but he grabbed hold of my wrist and slammed his fist across my check. My head whipped to the side form the force of the impact, and the demon released me. Facing him again I jumped, kicking him in the chin. His head was knocked back and he took a step back to regain his balance. I used the moment to keep him in the back of his leg, forcing him to one knee before landing a kick to his back. I pulled my leg back, swinging it at his face but the demon reached up and caught it. Standing, the demon tightened his grip on my leg and twisted around, using the momentum to launch me into the wall. I crashed to the floor, and quickly, but unsteadily, rolled to my feet. My body was starting to give, I could feel it.

I charged at him before he could regain his balance, meaning to knock him off his feet, but I was too late. The demon ducked, grabbed me at my waist and flipped me over his shoulder as he stood causing me to swing heels over head and landed on my back on the other side of him. I looked up to see him standing over me, holding a gun. The demon pointed it at me, but before he could pull the trigger his body arched and a look of pained shock spread across his face. The demon within him begun to glow the red of a dying fire as it died, its lifeless body falling to the floor. I looked from the dead body back to where he was standing to see a blond chick standing over me, panting as she stared down at me, a smug look on her face. I opened my mouth but Blondie was tackled to the side by another demon.

I struggled to get to my feet when Mitchell stepped up and took hold of my shirt, pulling me to my feet. He spun me around so I was facing the battle raging in the living room and stared at me, an evil smile spreading across his face. I realized we had come full circle. We were standing in front of the still open front door. Mitchell winked at me just before he took a step back, releasing his hold on my shirt. With lightning speed he slammed his foot into my chest sending me flying backwards with inhuman force.

My head smacked against the opposite wall of the hallway with a loud crack and I collapsed in a heap on the floor. Pain vibrated through my head, making the world spin. I tried to stand but I got light headed and the world blurred out of focus. I dropped back to the ground, but still managed to stay in a seated position while I tried not to pass out. Mitchell walked over to me and grabbed me by the throat and yanked me off the ground. He smashed me against the wall, my feet dangling in the air, and tightened his grip on my neck. Struggling to breath I took hold of Mitchell's wrist and pressed my feet against his chest, shoving him away from me. He stumbled backwards, his grip losing, and I fell to the floor again, coughing and sucking air into my lungs.

Mitchell smiled down at me, looking mildly impressed. He stepped forward, and I gritted my teeth. I glanced past him just as Dean stepped out of the room and pointed the Colt at Mitchell's head. A loud bang vibrated the walls as he pulled the trigger and despite myself I flinched as arterial spray stained my shirt. The demon within Mitchell begun to glow and twitch, just as the other one had, as the bullet begun to kill him. The lifeless body of Mitchell fell to the ground at me feet. I blinked, looking up at Dean.

He was bloody, a gash in his lip leaked down into his shirt. A few burses were forming on his jaw, and his knuckles were gashed open. I hesitated to think about the injuries he had under his clothes, or the ones I would no doubt have. Tucking the gun into his jeans, Dean stepped over to me and took hold of me under the arms, I grabbed on to his biceps for balance as pulling me to my feet. I gripped his jacket tighter as the world started to spin again and closed my eyes until it stopped. When I opened them again, Dean looked me up and down before turning back to the room just as Sam stumbled out of the apartment, looking just as beaten and bloody as I felt, and holding my bag of clothes and safe.

"The rest of them?" Dean asked Sam, still holding me in place.

"Dead," Sam answered.

"And Ruby?" Dean asked, his voice taking on a hard edge. I quickly glanced up at him to see he was looking at Sam with a frustrated look.

"Gone," Sam said, looking at me instead of Dean. That seemed like a fun fact I'd have to ask about later, right now I was too tired to try and stubborn out the answer. "Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

"I'm a highly trained ninja assassin," I wheezed, unable to talk very well around my crushed larynx.

"Very impressive, Buffy," Dean said, wrapping a protective arm around my shoulders, "But we gotta get outta here."

I leaned on Dean as he led me to the stairs, glad for the support, and Sam fallowed close on our heels. We didn't stop to rest until we were safely back in the Impala and speeding away from the apartments. I spread out across the back seat, breathing shallow to keep the pain in my ribs from reaching unbearable levels, and closed my eyes. I prayed to whoever was listening that Echo would stay alive and safe, and that I would find the demon soon.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

I gazed at my reflection in the mirror of a unisex bathroom of a gas station off the high way leading out of town, taking in my bruised jaw line and the still bleeding cut above my eye. I turned back around and held perfectly still while Dean dabbed at a cut over my eye. My whole body ached and all I really wanted to do was sleep, but that wasn't an option. With Sam outside looking for omens of the demon hunting me, just stopping and patching up our battle wounds seemed like a waste of time. The Winchesters had given me little room to argue, however. So here we were, playing the Real Doctors of Ghostbusting.

I sat as straight as I could, with my shoulders back, taking slow shallow breaths to keep the pain in my ribs from hurting too much. I fixed my eyes on the wall behind me, not looking at Dean as he moved about in front of me, his hip occasionally brushing against the outside of my knee as he leaned over me, smoothing my hair back and whipping my face clean from where the blood had dripped along my cheek and chin. I gritted my teeth, replaying the past two days over and over again in my head.

A newbie vampire killing seven young women in Salt Lake City of all places was first on my list. Was that just a coincidence? I'd say it was, even though hunters don't usually get that luxury. So that just left the Winchesters and the deaths that led them to me. Five young women matching my description killed to find me. Who was this person? Where was this guy who had gone through all that trouble to find me? Was it the demon? Was it the demon I had killed at the fundraiser? How did they get photos of me and Echo? None of it made sense. The fact that it just so happened to be the Winchesters who had found me, did that hold meaning? I had more questions than answers and I didn't like it.

"True?"

"What?" I asked glancing up to see Dean staring at me with worry filled eyes.

"I asked if you were okay," Dean said, turning to toss the alcohol cloth at the trash, "You were grinding your teeth together."

"Oh," I ran my tongue across my teeth, "I was just thinking."

"What about?" Dean asked, turning back to the first aid kit.

I pressed my lips together as Dean pulled a band-aid out of the first aid kit and tore it open. He pulled the wax strip off the band-aid and stepped up to me, gently pressing it over my cut. I watched him intently, probably a little creepily, as he ran his thumb across the band-aid to make sure it would stick. His eyes found mine, looking darker in the dim light of the bathroom, before he quickly turned away.

"About what's happening," I admitted, "None of this makes sense. I feel like I've been tossed into a tidal wave and someone keeps chucking rocks at my head as I struggle to stay afloat."

"That's oddly specific," Dean mumbled, tossing the band-aid wrapper to the side, not even aiming for the trash bin.

"It's annoying and I don't like it," I said, my gaze drifting off into the distance again.

"How are your ribs?" Dean asked, hiding a smile.

"Sore," I said, sitting up even straighter, and wincing, "Everything hurts."

Dean sighed, and indicated to my shirt, "I need to see."

I smirked, "Of course you do." I grabbed the hem of my shirt and started to pull it up, but hissed as pain shot through my ribs when my muscles pulled at my ribs. Groaning I lowered my arms back down and crinkling my nose against the pain before trying again. I shook my head, gasping, "Hurts to much."

"Here," Dean said, stepping forward.

He reached for my shirt, taking hold of the hem of my tang top, his knuckles brushing against my skin as he gently begun pulling my shirt up. Bunching up the fabric just under my bra, he leaned forward to examine my bruise. I sat up as straight as I could, holding me arms out to the sides slightly, to give him a better view as I glanced in the mirror frowning at the large oval shaped, deep purple burses already discoloring the right side of my body. Gently, Dean brushed his fingertips against my skin, pressing hard enough to feel any abnormalities on my ribs. I bit back another hiss of pain. Dean pulled back, lowering my shirt back into place.

"You'll probably be sore for awhile," Dean said, not looking at me, his hand resting at my knee, "But I don't think anything is broken."

"Are we going to kiss?" I asked suddenly.

Dean blanched at me, his eyes widening in surprise, but that didn't stop him for stepping forward, placing his hand on my hip, "You-you want me to kiss you? Here? Now?"

"Ew, no," I recoiled at the thought, "A clogged toilet doesn't really set the mood. But this sexual tension thing between us is starting to drive me crazy."

"Yeah," Dean said, licking his bottom lip before flashing me a flirtatious grin, "I guess we should just have sex and get it over with, huh?"

"Oh, swoon," I said sarcastically, "You sure do know how to romance a girl."

"You're the one who brought it up," Dean said with a shrug, "But if it makes you feel better I could buy you a beer."

"And what if I want stake?" I asked, batting my eyes flirtatiously, "Love me some stake."

Dean smirked at me, "You're one expensive date."

"You have no idea," I said, smiling sweetly, "But dinner will have to wait. We should probably get back to Sam."

"Now who has the Worse Timing award," Dean joked, holding onto my elbow as I slid of the sink. I flinched when my feet hit the ground and sucked in a shallow breath. "You okay?"

I nodded, "Just in a shit ton of pain."

"Okay, let's get you in the car," Dean said, walking besides me as I wobbled toward the door, trying not to upset my torso. Dean gently pressed his hand against my lower back for guidance.

Sam was leaning against the hood of the Impala as Dean and I left the bathroom. He flipped through a map, circling places with a red marker. He glanced up at us as we approached.

"Took you guys long enough," Sam jeered as I stopped beside him to see what he was doing.

"Shut up, I'm broken," I said halfheartedly as I picked up the map. Sam had circled five different locations along the East Coast. "What's all this?"

"The places the girls with you name were killed," Sam said, snatching the map back and placing it back on the hood of the car, "I've been trying to figure out the reasons behind it."

"To lure me out in the open," I said, snatching the map up again and turning from Sam so he would have a harder time taking it away again, "I would have caught on to it eventually and been compelled to come to the rescue."

"Then where is then where is this guy?" Sam said from behind him, his voice close to my ear as he peered over my shoulder, "There hasn't been another killing since we found the photo of you."

"Right," I said, turning back around to face him, "But I did get attacked by a demon who claimed he was working with another demon, maybe he had been the one trying to lure me out."

"Yeah, maybe," Sam glanced at Dean, who didn't look too amused. Sam pressed his lips together and folded the map and gathered up his red pen before heading toward the passenger side, "We should get going."

"Shotgun," I said, shooting Sam a sweet look.

He smiled at me and moved to the back seat. Giddy I hurried around the car, wincing at the jerking it caused in my ribs and pulled open the car door. I slid into the seat, not bothering with the seat belt, and relaxed as Dean crawled in besides me and Sam in the back. Dean stated the car, and eased away from the gas station, cruising further away from the city.

"You said your sister name was Echo?" Sam asked, abruptly.

I turned my head to look at him. He was seated in the middle, slouched down, and still looking over the map. I nodded, "Yep."

"And you have other siblings?"

"Had," I corrected, "Four of them, including Echo."

"Um, do you mind telling me their names?" Sam asked gently, peaking up at me with his soft eyes.

"Ryder, Echo, Indigo, and Ember," I said.

"Then you, Arianna?" Sam said, narrowing his eyes at me, "Why are you the only one with the normal name?"

"What's normal about having two middle names?" I smiled, "My dad was a bit of an eccentric. Since we would be referred to as Van Helsing rather than Knight he wanted to be able to name us, but when I was born, my mother said I had my grandmum's eyes and reminded her so much of her mother that she had wanted to name me after her. My dad caved."

"You're dad wasn't a Van Helsing?" Sam asked.

I shook my head, "He was an American, and met my mum while she was on a hunt. Fell in love with her and fallowed her all the way back to London."

"Guess he was pretty pleased when you started going by True," Sam smiled at me.

"I don't know," I said with a shrug, "He always called me Arianna, especially after my mum died. Besides, it wasn't the name he had picked out."

"What was your name supposed to be?" Dean asked. I glanced at him. He had the elbow of his left arm pressed into the ledge of the window for support, his other hand resting gently on the top of the steering wheel. He looked astonishingly at ease considering everything that was going on.

"Isle," I said, tucking my legs under me and turning so I was mostly facing Dean.

"Hmm," Dean said, pursing his lips.

"What?" I asked with a smirk, "You don't like it?"

"Was your dad a hunter then?" Sam asked, rolling his eyes at the drifting conversation, "I mean, before he met your mom?"

"Yep," I said, looking at him from over the back of the seat, "He was a newbie like you and Dean. Got into it after his sister was killed, I think."

"I'm sorry," Sam said sympathetically. He looked up at me with genuine sympathy and I remembered how his own father had gotten into hunting after his mother had died.

"It's okay," I reassured him, "Dad didn't talk about her much. I don't even know her name."

"Seriously?" Dean asked, glancing from the road to me, "Do you know _anything_ about her?"

I shrugged, "He _really_ didn't like to talk about it."

"Have you ever thought about looking into what happened?" Dean asked, his gaze fixed on the road.

I shrugged. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it, but I never wanted to push the issue. Mostly because I hadn't wanted to piss off my father, "I guess I could."

"I would," Dean mumbled so softly I almost didn't hear him. I'm not sure why he would care so much, the past was the past.

"Now, I have a question for you," I said, turning to look Sam in the eye.

"Shoot," Sam said, turning back to his map.

"Who is Ruby?" I asked, "And where they hell did she get a knife that can kill demons?"

Sam chuckled awkwardly, "Um, she's a friend of mine. And I don't know where she got the knife."

"By _friend_ you mean you're sleeping with her?" I asked flatly, genuinely curious.

The car jerked suddenly to the left and I had to throw out my hand against Dean's shoulder to keep myself from slamming against him. Sam nearly cloaked on his pen at my comment and stared at me with eyes bigger than the moon. Clutching at my side I took a staggering breath and slid back across the seat. I slid my arm back so that it rested on the back seat, my elbow hanging off.

"Jesus," Dean said, moving the car back into the right lane.

"She's just a girl who's helping me and Dean," Sam tried to explain.

"That was not the reaction of someone who is just a friend," I said.

Sam cleared his throat, "She's a demon."

"Oh, um, uh," I stammered, my brows pulling together in a mix of confusion and shock, "A, uh, a demon? Like the tortured in hell and evil and posses people kind of demon?"

Sam nodded, looking slightly ashamed, "Yeah."

"And she's a friend?" I repeated. Again Sam nodded. "Wow. Uh, yeah that's, um, interesting."

I had never heard of hunters being friends with demons, or anything that usually went pump in the night. Usually it was always kill first ask question's if needed. I guess there was a first time for everything, but a demon? I couldn't see myself doing that. Not with something that was literally completely evil.

"Okay," I said, ready to move on from that subject, "What do you think my siblings have to do with anything?"

"I don't know yet," Sam said, shaking his head in frustration, "I thought that maybe if they started killing girls with your name and that didn't work, then they might try with your siblings."

"Well, let me know it that pans out," I said, a yawn escaping my lips.

I rested my head against my arm and closed my eyes. A comfortable silence fell over the car; the only sound Led Zeppelins' _When the Levee Breaks_ drifting from the radio and the shuffling of papers coming from the backseat. The ride wasn't comfortable, with the constant ups and downs of the road and the occasional bump jostled me and hurt my ribs. I clenched my teeth against the pain, but I was too tired to open my eyes.

I wondered where we were going, if Dean even knew. We hadn't discussed it. Just got in the car and started driving, desperate to get away from the massive demon activity, and hopefully keep the attention away from Claire, who had agreed to stay on the down low at her fathers. I had agreed, though what I really wanted to tell her was to go on an extended vacation to Antarctica, it sounded like the safest place. I don't want the demons going after her to get to me.

I pictured Claire in one of those oversized warm jackets standing in snow that came up to her ankles, her hands and the top of her head covered in thick fabric, beaming at me as I used a dog sled to reach her. We'd crunch through the snow toward the little hut of a house while her father stands in the doorway, glaring at me, dressed similar to Claire and sipping steaming coffee. No demons would know where she was, no monsters would bother trucking all the way out there. She would be safe. Cold, but safe.

"She can't come with us, Sam," Dean whispered, the annoyance of his voice enough to jolt me awake. I curled up tighter, pulling my knees against my chin in an attempt to better cover myself with the jacket that had been draped over me.

"Come on, Dean," Sam whispered back, his voice almost inaudible from the back seat, "I know you want her to. I've seen the way you guys pretend not to look at each other. Plus, you saw her back there. She's amazing."

"Yeah," Dean said softly, "She really did kick some serious ass back there. It was kinda hot."

My eyes popped open, without moving I looked around. I was curled up on the front seat, my feet knees hung off the edge of the seat. Dean was still driving and classic rock still played on the radio. It was dark outside the windows, and I could see the stars in the sky. I grabbed hold of the thing covering me and pulled it up, realizing it was Dean's jacket, the smell of leather and soap wafting up to me.

"Dean," Sam said, throwing in his last ditch effort to convince his brother, "Devil's Gate aside, she needs us. If we turn our backs on her, she could die."

"Don't you think I know that?" Dean hissed, "It's just, we still don't know what's going on."

"We got to help her, Dean," Sam said, "We are running out of time, here, for both of you."

"Fine," Dean said, "She can come. Just watch what you saw around her."

"I will," Sam said with relief in his voice.

I beamed at the giddy feeling in my chest despite myself. I was looking forward to this. Sam was right, I was in deep. I'd need someone to help me claw my way back out, and someone who would scrub my back when I washed off. I closed my eyes, drifting back to sleep to the sound of Sam and Dean discussing the next case.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi, everyone! Okay, so now that True is on Team Free Will, I'm going to be getting more into the actual show, remixing a few of the episodes. I'm not going to do all of them, mostly only the ones that have a major effect on the storyline or are my favorite episodes. This is because I want this to be more focused on True and her problems rather than the life of the Winchesters. That being said, if there are any episodes that you would like me to remix please feel free to message me and I'll gladly oblige as best I can. Sorry if this wasn't what you were expecting, but it was always the plan.**

 **I would also like to mention again that I do not own Supernatural or Van Helsing, this is just a fan biased story inspired by the show. No copyright attended. Thanks, guys!**

 **Chapter Eight:**

The night was quite, the darkness stretching out before us like it was never ending. Wrapping the dull ends of my razor wire around my palms, I tagged along behind Sam and Dean as we walked through the back alleys of a warehouse district. I kept my eyes and ears on high alert while on the hunt. It had been a long day of researching and mucking about as FBI agents trying to get to the bottom of the two deaths that plagued the area. Between the victims suffering from massive blood loss and sporting bite marks on the neck, one even missing a chunk of flesh, it was clear we were hunting a vampire.

It was a nice little distraction from the absolute nothing I was getting while looking for the demon who wanted me dead. It'd only been a few days, but my patients was already at zero. The demon hadn't come after me or Echo. I couldn't dig up any more information on the killings of the girls on the West Coast, no other girls had been killed since, and the vampire in Salt Lake City had really been just a happy coincidence. I'd hit a dead end, and I was gladly eager to take my frustration out on something.

I glanced around the alleyway taking in the dumpsters, the gloomy look of the brick buildings around us and wondered why the vampire had chosen here to hunt. This town did have a downtown, full with bustling streets of unsuspected people, but instead the vamp was sulking around in between the nearly abandon warehouses. Everyone had probably gone home for the night hours ago. No matter, the vampire would find someone eventually. Someone always was lagging behind.

Walking further down the alleyways in silence, the sound of our muffled footsteps echoing around us, I peered around the two men who stood like a wall in front of me and checked to see if anything new had popped up. It had taken me longer then I had liked to convince them that I was up for this fight, despite my still bruised ribs. I dressed in my hunter uniform and twisted my hair into the French braid and stood my ground despite Dean's insistence for me to remain behind. Lucky for me, I'm far more stubborn then that thick-skulled cutie.

The sink of copper begun making my nose twitch, Dean and Sam stopped so suddenly I nearly ran into them. I glanced up to see them staring off to the side. Sticking my arms between the middle of them I pushed them aside and stepped forward, glancing at what they were goggling at. A few yards away from us there was a rather large puddle of blood by a dumpster. We all shared a look before we hurried around the dumpster and found a man lying on the ground, shaking from shock and blood loss, with a gaping bite mark on his neck that was still bleed.

Sam instantly went into comfort mood, kneeling down beside him and placing his hand on the guy's neck in an attempt to calm him down and stop the bleeding, "Hey, don't worry. We're gonna call you some help, okay?"

"Poor chap," I muttered, looking around for any movement. The vampire couldn't be that far away.

After a quick look around as well, Dean, ever the hunter, leaned over the dying man, "Where is she? Where'd she go?"

The man grunted in pain as he lifted his finger and pointed past him, off to the left somewhere. Dean pulled out his machete and hurried in that direction, not looking back. I shared a quick glance with Sam, who gave me an encouraging nod, before I fallowed after Dean. We ran down another dark alley, littered with band posters on the wall and trash along the floor, slowing only when we rounded a corner and headed past more dumpsters and fire escapes, the stench of trash hung in the air. While Dean kept his focus on the shadows lurking around us, I grabbed hold of his jacket to make sure I didn't run into anything and looked up, checking every nook and cranny of the buildings above us for any slightly darker shadow.

"You should have stayed with Sam," Dean said, glancing over his shoulder at me.

"Yeah," I said, rolling my eyes at him, "That wasn't going to happen."

Dean shrugged and turned back around, leading the way through another passage until it branched out into a larger opening. Pausing at the top of a small set of stairs, we looked out at the three alleys that split off to the left, right, and striating a head. I let go of Dean's jacket as he walked down a few steps, my hand falling to my side, and watched as he stopped in the middle of intersection. Dean looked down each alleyway in turn, a determined look on his face, before glancing back at me.

"Should we split up?" I asked, shrugging slightly. Dean's response was turning back around to gaze at the alleyways again. I walked down the steps and headed down the alley to the left.

I was halfway down the way when Dean called out to me, "Wait. I got a better idea."

I turned around to face him, pausing to see his big idea. Dean was looking at me, he smiled the kind of smile that came when you thought you had a good idea but it was actually a really bad. Worried now, I stepped forward. Dean ignored me and held up his free hand and pulled back the sleeve of his jacket, holding the machete up over his skin.

"Are you crazy?" I called out.

I heard a commotion behind me and spun around just as the vampire leaped out from around a corner, catching me off guard and knocking me down with a swift whip of her arm. My back slammed against the asphalt, causing my ribs to sting from the force. I struggled to regain my breath, but the vampire jumped on top of me, grabbing my razor wire and tossing it to the side. I grunted in frustration and slammed my fist against jaw, knocking her off balance. She growled as her head whipped to one side. I tried to shimmy away, but the vampire grabbed hold of my shirt. She leaned back, her blood stained lips pulled back to reveal her pointed row of fangs.

"Hey!" Dean yelled, causing both the vampire and I to turn toward him. Dean sliced the edge of his machete down his arm, drawing blood, "You smell that? Come and get it!"

Drawn like flies to honey, the vampire begun to pull away from me. I grunted as the vampire shoved me down, before she stumbled in Dean's direction. I rolled to my feet, snatching my wire from where it landed. I twisted it back around the palms of my hand, keeping my eyes focused on the danger in front of me.

"That's right, come on," Dean said as the vampire walked closer. "I smell good, don't I? I taste even better."

I began inching around the vampire in a half circle, careful to stay as far from her as I could get. I stopped when I was in front of her, but she didn't even look at me. Her eyes flickered between the blood on Dean's arm and the machete in his hand. Dean held it up and wiggling it slightly for enthuses, before shooting her a half smile and dropping it on the ground with a clatter. I clenched my teeth and balanced my weight on the balls of my feet, ready to spring into action if need be.

"Come on," Dean shouted, sliding his hand in and then out of his coat pocket so smoothly I doubted the vamp had noticed, or she just didn't care, "Free lunch."

Growling, the vamp rushed forward, launching at Dean. She locked her hands on his shoulders with a death grip, her teeth aiming for his throat. Dean caught her by the hair with lightning fast reflexes and pulled her head back, he held her steady as he plunged a syringe of Dead Man's Blood into the vampire's neck. Grunting and coughing as the blood spread its way through her body, the vampire stumbled away for Dean before collapsing to the ground, unconscious. I stared down at her, amazed that we'd caught her in only a few short minutes.

"Huh," I said, turning to Dean, who was starting down at the unconscious vampire. Feeling my eyes on him, he glanced up. An instant fire burned in my gut when his bright green eyes met mine, "That actually worked."

"Hell yeah it did," Dean said, blowing out a breath of air as adrenaline continued to pulse through his veins, "Whoa!"

I smiled at his enthusiasm, and glanced back down at the vampire. Now that we weren't being mauled but the vampire I had a chance to take her in. She was pretty, dressed in nice dark clothes dirty with blood and God knows what else, her long blond hair falling in messy waves around her shoulders. She seemed a bit rabid to be that well done up. The hunger had probably driven her half mad.

"What?" Dean asked suddenly. I glanced up to see Sam descending the steps and stopping beside his brother.

"Cutting it a little close, don't you think?" Sam asked, tucking his blade back into his coat.

"Ah," Dean said dismissively as he walked over to his machete and snatched it off the ground. Tucking it into his jacket he said, "I was just chumming the water."

I scoffed at him, "You're a dumbass."

"Worked, didn't it?" Dean snapped. He looked down at his still bleeding arm.

I looked down at the vampire and muttered, "It was still stupid."

Sam stepped forward and slid his arms under the vampire, effortlessly lifting her off the ground. Without arguing, Dean and I fallowed Sam back the way we had come. I grabbed hold of Dean's bleeding arm and held it in the light as we walked so I could examine it. It wasn't deep enough for stitches, but it continued to bleed. I pulled an emergency band-aid out of one of my pant pockets and tore it open, placing it over the cut. I looked up at Dean, who shot me a smug smirked. I rolled my eyes, but found myself smiling. I shoved his arm back at him.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked.

I shrugged, stretching my arms over my head, "Still breathing."

"Good," Dean said, nodding his head slightly.

I glanced at Dean out of the corner of my eye as awkward silence fell around us. Since the sex talk in the bathroom outside of Salt Lake City, Dean had actively been trying to avoid me. He'd stand on the opposite side of the room, scoot his chair as far from me as possible when we sat at the same table, but would turn around and refuse to allow me to get my own hotel room. Usually when we talked, it was either him telling me what to do or small talk about where we would be eating that day. I couldn't decide if this was a good or bad thing. The rational part of my brain was telling me how irrational I was being, and the irrational part didn't care. To say it was mildly annoying was an understatement.

I picked up my pace to catch up with Sam just before he reached the Impala. He glanced down at me, giving me the same look he had for the past few days. It was a look that asked if I was okay on a emotional level, not just physical. I shrugged my shoulders, but said nothing. Dean rounded the car to the trunk and opened it, stepping back to let Sam dump the vampire inside.

"The guy?" I asked Sam as I pulled open the door to the back seat.

"Ambulance got here just before I fallowed after you guys," Sam said.

Dean slammed the trunk shut and moved around the car, "Then let's get the hell outta here."

Dean slid into the driver's seat of the Impala, and I crawled into the back seat, scooting into the middle while Sam sat in the passenger side up front. Dean started the car and cranked _Back in Black_ by ACDC before he pealed out of the warehouse district, heading back to our dingy motel. The ride only lasted about twenty minutes, the only sound being the music from the radio, before Dean pulled into the parking space in front of their room. Dean got out of the car first, pulling open the back door for me, but not pausing to wait before moving to the trunk. I slid out of the car, shutting the door as I watched Sam reached in and pulled out the vampire. Together we walked into the hotel.

Dean held the door open and Sam walked in first, then me. I rushed around the tallest Winchester and pulled a chair away from the table into the middle of the floor. Sam placed the girl in the chair and Dean came over with ropes in his hands and begun tying the vampire down. I walked into the bathroom just as Sam begun to pull the blankets off the bed and toss them to the side. I grabbed one of the hand towels and ran it under the water, twisting it so the towel was just damp enough for cleaning.

When I came back out of the bathroom, Sam had flipped the mattresses and box springs off the beds over and leaned them against the windows and wall where the adjoining door was, and had pushed the rest of the furniture against the walls, as far from the vampire as he could get them. All but the table which Dean was leaning over, laying out knifes and more syringes of Dead Man's Blood.

I rushed over to the table, glaring down at the array of weapons, "Are you planning on torturing her?"

Dean glanced up at me, pursing his lips, "Do you have any better ideas? We need to know where her nest is."

"Dean, I hate all things evil as much as the next hunter," I said, slamming my hands on the table, "but torture is beneath us. It's wrong, and cold. It makes us no better than them to cause such pain."

"She's a vampire," Dean said, "She's causes pain. It's what she does!"

"He's right," Sam chipped in, "More people could die if we don't do this."

I turned from the two men and knelt in front of the vampire. Folding the towel into a neat square, I began whipping the dried blood from her chin a gently as I could with the anger bubbling in my chest. This was exactly the kind of thing that convinced me to leave the Circle in the first place. Slowly the vamp began to wake, lifting her blond head with a tired sigh. Her eyes fluttered up, falling on me. She gasped, sitting up straighter.

"Hello," I said, leaning back on my heels.

Strong hands grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me to my feet. I turned around in annoyance as Dean pushed me to the side. He leaned forward, invading the vampire's personal bubble, and saying, "You with us?"

The vampire flinched in fear, fighting against her ropes with frustrated grunts. I twisted the cloth around and around, watching her struggled.

"Oh, yeah," Dean said as he straightened back up. "Sorry, you're not going anywhere."

"Wha-?" The vamp asked still struggling with her ropes. She looked around her in horror, her brows pulled together in confusion.

"Where's your nest?" Sam demanded, voice hard and not wasting any more time.

"What?" The vampire asked looking up at him with tear filled eyes.

"Your nest," Dean repeated, "Where you and your bloodsucking pals hang out?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the vamp said, "Please, I don't feel good."

"Yeah, well," Dean said, turning away from her with no sympathy in his voice. He grabbed one of the syringes on the table behind him and turned back around to show it to her, "You're gonna feel a hell of a lot worse when we give you another shot of Dead Man's Blood."

The vampire shook her head, "Just let me go."

"Ha," Sam said with a small skeptical smile, "Yeah, you know we can't do that."

"I'm telling you the truth," the vampire begged, "I'm just- I took something. I'm freaking out. I don't know what's going on."

I believed her. I pride myself in being able to tell when a person, or creature of the night, was lying, so either this vampire was the world's best actor or she was telling the truth. The pleading tone in her voice was real, as well was the panic in her eyes. My guess, she was new to the whole vampire thing.

"What do you mean you took something?" I asked, despite Dean's unconvinced look. He pulled the cap off the syringe. Shaking my head I stepped forward, pushing Dean to the side, "What did you take?"

Dean and Sam shared a look. The vampire's desperate eyes where downcast as she said, "I can't come down. I just wanna come down."

"What's your name?" Sam asked, walking around the vampire.

"Lucy," the vampire said, looking to Sam, "Please, just let me go."

"Alright, Lucy, how about this?" Sam asked, stopping at Lucy's side and leaning forward, "If you tell us what happened we'll let you go."

Dean shot a look at Sam and I gritted my teeth. Lucy looked up at Dean and I, hope in her eyes, "You will?"

I turned around in time to see Dean nodded and smiled at her reassuringly. I wasn't sure how Lucy was buying this. Dean had just given her the worse poker face I had ever seen. I was sure that mine was no better, probably a mix of anger and annoyance. We all knew that we couldn't let her go, not after what she had done. Not when she was what she was.

"Um," Lucy began, licking her lips as her brows pulled together while she tried to think, "I don't really- It's not that clear. I was at Spider."

"Spider?" Dean and I repeated simultaneously.

"The club, on Jefferson," Lucy explained, before turning to look at Sam, "And there was this guy, he way buying me drinks."

"This guy," Sam asked, "What's he look like?"

Lucy shook her head as if that would knock her memory free and licked her lips again, "Uh, he was old, like, thirty. He had brown hair, a leather jacket. Deacon or Dixon or something. Said he was a dealer, he had something for me."

"Right, you said that," I said, "What was it?"

"Something new," Lucy said, "Better than anything you've ever tried. He put a few drops in my drink."

"Great," I said, throwing my hands in the air and sharing a look with Sam and Dean before turning back to Lucy, "Some stranger offers you a drug and you take it, no questions ask?"

"I didn't know what was going to happen," Lucy said, her voice thick with regret.

"Was the drug red and thick?" Dean asked, turning back to the vampire. Lucy looked up at Dean in amazement and nodded. Dean continued, "Well, genius move there. That was vampire blood. He dosed you."

I had to admit it really was a smart plan. He could turn anyone and everyone and no one would realize what was happening until was too late, leaving an army of new vampires in his wake.

"What?" Lucy demanded.

"You just took a big steaming shot of the nastiest virus there is," Dean told her.

"You're crazy," Lucy said, "He gave me roofies or something. The next thing I know, we're at his place and he says he's gonna get me something to eat, just wait. But I get so hungry."

"So you busted out?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Lucy confirmed with a nod of her head, "But it won't wear off, whatever he gave me."

"Lights too bright?" Dean asked, nudging me aside and moving back to stand in front of Lucy, "Sunshine hurts your skin?"

"Yeah," Lucy said. "And smells. And I can hear blood pumping."

"Well, I hate to tell you this, sweetheart, but your blood's never pumping again," Dean told her.

"Not mine," Lucy said, shaking her head, staring up at Dean, "Yours. I can hear a heart beating from half a block away. I just want it to stop."

"I'm sorry," I said softly, "But this is one high you can't come down from."

"Why not?" Lucy begged.

"Alright, listen, Wavy Gravy," Dean said, leaning forward so he was eye level with the girl, "You're turning into a vampire. You've already killed two people, almost three."

"No, I couldn't," Lucy said, her voice thick and eyes filling with tears again, repulsed at the thought that she could commit such a crime, "I was hallucinating."

"It wasn't a hallucination, pet," I said softly, "It was real."

"We've been following a sloppy trail of corpses and it leads straight to you," Dean snapped.

"No," Lucy said with conviction, shaking her head in disbelief, but I could tell by her eyes that some part of her knew we were telling the truth, and it horrified her. "No, it wasn't real. It was the drugs. Please, you have to help me."

Sam crossed his hands over his head and looked at Dean, tilting his head to the side indicating for him to take a few steps back so they could talk in private. I fallowed them back to the bathroom, not about to sit this one out. I glanced back at Lucy who stared at me with dread, knowing full well that she would be able to hear us anyway. I crossed my arms over my chest and shuffled my weight back and forth on my feet.

Sam shook his head, "Poor girl."

"No kidding," I said softly, "She didn't ask for this."

"We don't have a choice," Dean said, looking back at Lucy. He was right, she'd already fed. There was no saving her now.

Dean shook his head, almost looking like he regretted what he was about to do. He left the bathroom, pulling his machete out of his jacket as he went. Sam turned to me, looking at me with pity filled eyes. I sighed, turning my back on Dean and Lucy. I felt Sam put a hand on my shoulder, but I couldn't tell if he actually felt for the vampire or just me.

"No," Lucy begged from the main room, "Please!"

Lucy screamed as the sound of the blade sliced through the air, echoed by the squishy sound of her neck being separated from her body. The head fell to the ground with a thud.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine:**

Upbeat music blasted loud enough to cause deafness, shaking the floor to its beat as I made my way across the dance floor of Spider. Sweaty bodies pressed so close together it was hard not to feel invaded as I squeezed my way around the boogieing people, making my way over to the bar. I was pretty sure my ass was groped a few times, but for the sake of not drawing to much attention to myself, I ignored it. I raised my eye brow at a couple dry humping on the floor as I moved past them, finally reaching the bar.

I slid between an older gentleman who looked bored and a young girl who didn't look old enough to drink alcohol, and smiled at the bartender. I crossed my arms as I leaned against the bar so my boobs attracted his attention, knowing I wouldn't have to wait long. He slid over to me, smiling a toothy grin, his eyes never leaving my cleavage. I smirked, interlocking my fingers.

He wasn't bad looking, burly with small eyes and a thick beard, but the way he looked at me like I was a piece of meat rather than a woman was a serious turn off. But guys like him were pretty easy to manipulate. Make them think you where interested and you got what you wanted. The only trouble was the dismount. Most guys would curse and call you names before walking away to stroke their ego, others got physical. I've had to knock down my fair share of guys, eager to bruise their egos some more.

"What can I get you?" The bartender asked loud enough to be heard over the music.

"I'm actually here to help a friend," I said, flashing him a flirtatious grin when his eyes finally met mine, "She was here a few nights ago and met this guy, they hit it off but she didn't get his number and forgot her bag in his car, the silly goose. I was wondering if you've seen the guy. He's maybe thirty, brown hair. His names Dixon or Deacon, I think."

The bar tender shook his head, grabbing a wash cloth and begun whipping the bar, "Sorry, baby doll, but I have a lot of guys like that coming in here, none leave a name."

"Aw," I pouted, sticking out my bottom lip, "To bad."

The bartender eyed my mouth, biting his own bottom lip in the process, "I wish I could be more help, maybe after my shift we can discuss more about it. I might remember something then."

I smiled at him sweetly, "Sorry, sugar, but I can't stick around."

I tapped my palm against the bar as I turned away from it and disappeared back into the throng of people. I shimmied my way back across the dance floor, shaking my hips to the beat as I passed a group of men. They all smiled at me, hooting as I passed between them. One grabbed hold of my arm, pulling me back so our bodies collided. I smiled up at him, pushing at his chest to send him away. I turned, spotting Dean chatting up one of the waitresses, a flirtations look on his face. I headed that way despite the shouts of boos from the guys behind me.

I was almost to Dean when I spotted Sam out of the corner of my eye. He was standing a few feet away, talking to another waitress. He looked concerned, more focused. He didn't seem to notice how pretty the waitress was, or that she was wearing a skimpy black dress that hardly covered any skin. She had straight blond hair down to her ass, round eyes, and perfect make up. She smiled at him, but Sam wasn't paying attention. He handed the girl a card before turning away from her.

I sighed and wandered over to him. I linked my arm through his and leaned my head against his shoulder, looking up at him with disappointment. He peered down at me confusion and said, "What?"

"She likes you, Sam," I said, pointing my thumb in the direction of the waitress, "And you blew her off."

Sam chucked awkwardly, "I don't like mixing business with pleasure."

"What about after the business?" I asked, leaning back so I could get a clear view of his face, "Business ends, and all that's left is pleasure."

"Are you trying to hook me up?" Sam asked, smiling down at me.

I blinked at him with mock innocence, "Try not to think of it as _hooking up_ and more like _pimping out_ , Sam."

Sam laughed. I smiled up at him as Dean caught up with us, eyeing us suspiciously. He glanced at our interlocked arms before quickly glancing away. He nodded for us to fallow him, so we did.

"What's so funny?" Dean asked as he led us out of Spider, pushing open the door in a huff.

"True thinks she's a pimp," Sam said, still smiling.

"I am a pimp," I said, "Just not a very good one."

"Awesome," Dean said, rolling his eyes at us, "Well, that was a big fat waste of time. I got nothing."

"Same here," I said sullenly.

"Yeah, but guys," Sam said, "All the blonds who went missing were last sighted here. I'm telling you, this is the hunting ground."

"To bad I'm not blond," I said, lifting up my index finger, "I'd have this guy wrapped around my finger."

"Hey," Dean said, clearly not hearing a word I said. I glanced up to see him pointed at a man in a jacket who was walking away with a blond woman tucked under his arm. Possible suspect, I think yes.

Letting go of Sam's arm, the three of us rushed after the couple. We fallowed them as they turned down an alleyway, disappearing from sight. It didn't take us long to catch back up with them. We made it to the alley just in time to see the man pull something out of his jacket pocket.

"One taste of this and you'll never be the same," I heard the man saying as he held an eyedropper over the woman's mouth. Dean picked up speed and took hold of his wrist. When the man turned to look at him, Dean punched him in the face, causing him to stumble backwards.

"Did you take any of the drug?' I said, running over to the girl. I had to shake her to get her attention from Dean and the vampire to me. " _Did you take that drug_?"

She shook her head franticly, "No, I-"

That was all I need to know. I released the girl and turned away, back to Dean and the vampire.

"Get out of here," Sam said to the girl, "Go, go!"

Doing as she was told the girl ran down the alleyway as best she could in her six inch heels.

The vampire grabbed Dean and spun him around, throwing him at the wall. I ran at the same wall and jumped, placing my foot out so I could launch myself into the air. I spun, and swung out my opposite leg, kicking the vampire in the face. He stumbled, but caught his footing and bolted away from us. While Sam went to help Dean, I took off down the alley after the vampire.

I rounded a corner just in time to see the vampire run across a street and rounding a parking garage. I charged after him, fallowing him down another alleyway, but when I got there it was empty. Or at least it looked empty. Several cars lined the side of the alley, perfect hiding places for a smarty-pants vampire. I maneuvered my way down the alley slowly, crouching low as I peaked around cars to check for the vampire. I reached the end of the alleyway with no luck. I heaved a frustrated sigh before turning back around. I had only taken one step when I was suddenly grabbed from behind and locked in a head lock. I instantly began to struggle.

"Calm down, sweetheart," the gruff voice of the man holding me said. It wasn't the same voice as the vampire.

I leaned forward as best I could and I whipped the back of my head against my attackers face, feeling more than hearing the crack of his nose. His grip loosened and I spun around, back handing him across the face. I spun in a full circle and froze. Another man was pointing a gun at my face. I turned my head to the side, looking around the gun into the face of the man and pursed my lips at him. He was a tall guy, with dark skin and a bald head, dressed in jeans and a leather jacket.

"That's uncalled for," I told him.

Thundering footsteps echoed down the alleyway, catching our attention before the man holding the gun could say anything. Dean and Sam ran around the corner, coming up short when they saw us. The man with the gun turned from me and started walking toward the Winchesters, holding up his gun and pointing it at Sam.

The man I had hit earlier pulled out his gun and begun rapped firing it at Sam and Dean. The Winchesters dived behind a nearby car for shelter. I quickly ran forward. I grabbed hold of the first guy by his jacket to hold him still and slammed knee into his guy, causing him to double over. I turned around for the second guy just as Dean bolt around a corner and run across a car before jumping into the window of the nearby parking garage. He poked his head up long enough to motion with his hand for me to run. I turned and hurried out of the alley way, running at full speed across the street, doubling back around to Spider. Panting, I stumbled to a stop and put my hands on my knees, sucking in large gulps of air.

"Hey, baby doll," a voice said from behind me. I straightened to see the bartender standing behind me, "I thought you said you couldn't stick around."

"I can't," I said, catching my breath, "This is me. Not sticking around."

I turned to leave, walking toward were Dean had parked the Impala. I didn't turn back around to see the reaction of the bartender, but I could tell he was fallowing me. When I was far enough away from Spider, I spun back around to tell him off, but my comment died in my throat. The man I had head butted was standing behind me, gun pointed at my head. I glanced around, not seeing the bartender. It must not have been him I felt fallowing me.

"Hands up," The man ordered. Seeing no other choice, I obliged.

"You're working with the Winchesters?" He demanded.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, glancing behind me. I was still too far from the Impala. I couldn't even see it yet.

"Oh, I think you are," He said, smiling, "We should talk."

"Now, but talk you mean…?" I trailed off; leaving it up to him to fill in the blank.

The man motioned me to move in front of him by waving the gun in the direction he wanted me to go, it was the opposite direction of the Impala. I did as I was told, keeping my hands raised by my ears. I gritted my teeth as we walked, I must be getting rusty if I was letting some human kidnap me, but what could I do? I stupidly hadn't brought my gun, because what use where they against a vampire? All I had was my razor wire, tucked away in my cargo pocket. It wouldn't be worth much against a gun.

The man had me keep walking until we came to an RV. It was tan color, old and rusty, well past its glory days. I stopped in front of the door, glancing behind me slightly to see the guy out of the corner of my eye.

"Face me," The man ordered. I turned around completely to look at him as he held up a set of keys. He tossed them at me and I caught them. I raised my eyebrows at him. "Unlock the door. It's the gold one."

"Right," I said. I examined the keys as I turned back around, finding the only basic gold key. I slid it into the lock, turning it till I heard the click, and then pulled the door open. I turned back to face the man and said, "Now what?"

"Toss me back the keys and get inside," The man said, "And don't try anything funny. I don't want to kill you, sweetheart, but I will."

I sighed, tossing the keys back to him. I turned back around and entered the RV, pausing just in the entrance. My eyes widened at all the Jesus posters and memorabilia covering the rustic RV. Someone seriously loved his God, almost obsessively. Having all those Jesus' eyes on me made me think of all the sins I had committed over my life. I tried not to think too much about it. If there was a God, he could forgive me for the occasional sin considering I dedicated my life to death off all things evil.

"Come on," The man said, walking up the stairs. He shut the door behind him and indicated with his gun for me to move further into the RV. He nodded his head at a chair by the little table. "Go ahead and have a seat."

I pulled out the chair and sat down. The man kept his gun pointed at me as he walked toward the table. He grabbed a bag he had left on the booth and lifted it onto the table. He unzipped it one handed and pulled out a rope, tossing it to me. I ran my fingers over the cores rope, feeling the strength of it as I checked for any weak points.

"First your feet, then you hands," The man said.

I held it up the rope, shaking it to untangle it and it fell into four different sections. I begun wrapping it around my feet, tying myself to the chair. When I had finished I placed my untied hand back on the arm rest. The man placed his gun on the counter and walked over and tied my right hand to the chair, and then he checked the other ropes. When he was satisfied with the knots he straightened up and took a step back, smiling down at me.

"Okay," I said, staring up at him, "Is this were you torture me for information?"

"No," The man said, "This is where I trade you for Sam Winchester."

I scoffed, "Why are you so interested in the Winchesters?"

"I'm not surprised you don't know," The man said softly, "I can't imagine they would want many more people to know what Sam is."

"And what is Sam?" I said sarcastically, "Enlighten me."

"Sam, well, he's the Antichrist," The man said.

I nodded my head slowly, "Sorry, sugar, but Sam isn't any more the Antichrist then a puppy in a bow is."

"I'm on a mission from God," the man said, "He has led me to Sam, told me about his evil powers. He opened the Hell Gate and let all kinds of unspeakable demons out on the world."

Any doubts I had about Sam evaporated into the air around me as my eyes shoot up to the man in front of me. I knew I shouldn't believe him, this crazy dude who had kidnapped me, but a part of what he was saying made since. I though back to Dean not wanting me to come with them, how he had told Sam to watch what he had said around me. Dean was worried I would find out about Sam, find out the truth. The man smiled at me, realizing the connections I had just made.

I forced a smile and said the only thing I could think of, "I'm agnostic."

The man chose not to acknowledge my comment. Instead he moved to the front of the RV and plopped down into the driver's seat. He started the engine, soft gospel music drifted from the radio. With a quick glance at me, he pulled out onto the street and begun driving away.

"What's your name, sweetheart," The man called, not looking back at me.

"Lilly," I said.

"Lilly?" The man said, "That's pretty. Lilly, what?"

"Potter," I said, deadpanned.

"Well, Lilly Potter," the man said, "I'm Kubrick."

"Fascinating," I mumbled, staring at him in surprise. He actually believed me. I was seriously concerned for his lack of knowing about who Lilly Potter was. Someone needed to educate that man.

"We'll wait here for Gordon," Kubrick said, pulling to a stop and cutting the engine. He stood up and walked over to me, "Would you like something to drink, Lilly?"

"I'd love a spot of tea," I said, smiling up at him.

Kubrick nodded, turning and pulling a kettle out of one of the cabinets. He filled it with water and set it down on the stove, turning on the heat. While the water boiled Kubrick sat at the little table and begun loading his gun. Time ticked by slowly. Kubrick made tea, sticking a straw in the cup so I would be able to drink it. I didn't. Instead I sat in quite, glaring at him as he tried to make small talk about his mission.

Thankfully, a dog started backing in the distance, catching Kubrick's attention. Shooting a quick look at me, he put down his gun. Kubrick grabbed a bandana from the table and slipped it between my lips before tying it at the back of my head. He walked around me and headed for the door. A sense of uneasiness settled around us, and I clenched my jaw, watching Kubrick closely.

He looked out the window of the door, his head moving as he checked out the scene. The sound of a window opening caught my attention and I turned to see the other man from before crawling through the window and moving to stand a few feet away from me, his attention on Kubrick. I could tell from the way he stood that something was no longer right about him.

"Gordon," Kubrick said softly, looking at his partner, "You okay?"

Gordon shook his head, "Not even close."

"I thought maybe you were dead," Kubrick said with a soft chuckle as he approached Gordon, "What is it?"

"Something happened," Gordon said softly, not looking his partner in the eye.

"What?" Kubrick asked, is tone encouraging his partner to come clean.

"They turned me," Gordon said after a moment's pause. There was so much shame in his voice I felt for the guy.

"They?" Kubrick asked, "Those fangs?"

Gordon hung his head.

"I'm sorry," Kubrick said, "You know what this means?"

"It means you have to kill me," Gordon said, "But not yet."

"What do you mean?" Kubrick asked in confusion.

"You have to let me do one last thing first," Gordon explained, "Kill Sam Winchester. It is the one good thing to come out of this nightmare. I'm stronger, I'm faster. I can finish him."

"Gordon, I'm sorry," Kubrick said, he truly looked it, "You know I can't let you walk out of here."

"Listen to me," Gordon said, clutching to Kubrick arms, "There is nothing more important. Please." Gordon turned away from his partner, walking a few steps away and looking at a cross of Jesus on the wall. "I can do one last good thing for the world."

"Yeah," Kubrick said, turning away from Gordon and walking back toward the table, "I hear you." He picked up a large knife. I shook my head franticly at him, but he ignored me and turned back to his friend, "You know, Gordon, you're right. One last good thing."

Gordon spun around, grabbing Kubrick hand that held the knife, and plunging his other hand deep into his friend's chest cavity. I gasped, but was unable to look away from the carnage before me. Kubrick grunted as Gordon withdrew his hand and held it up to look at it. It was covered in the dark blood, drops of it streaming down his arm. Gordon actually looked saddened by his actions as Kubrick collapsed against his shoulder, gasping out his dying breath. Gordon held him there, whispering something in his ear I couldn't hear, tears in his eyes, before he gently laid him down and turned his attention to me.

Gordon walked toward me, keeling down in front of me. With his blood stained hand pulled the gag from my mouth.

"You didn't have to kill him," I said, trying not to struggle against the ropes. I didn't want to show any weakness.

"He would have gotten in the way," Gordon said, shaking his head, "Maybe even helped them."

"So now you'll kill me?" I said, dreading the answer but wanting to know.

He placed his hand gently on mine, "Now that Kubrick is gone, I'm going to need you to kill me after I kill Sam Winchester. But first, you'll be bait."

Gordon stood, looming over me. Slowly he lifted his hand and brought it down across my face. Bright lights exploded across my vision, enveloped soon after by darkness.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

The sound of metal clanking against metal pulled me from the depths of unconsciousness. I whipped my head up, pulling at my hands. Smooth metal dug into the skin of my wrist and I glanced up to see my hands in cuffs, hanging from a pipe. I fallowed the pipe down, seeing where it disappeared into the wall behind my head, then up to where it stretched to the ceiling before turning and disappearing into the darkness of the ceiling. I wouldn't be able to just break free.

"I'm glad you're finally awake."

I spun my head back around, coming nose to nose with Gordon. His dark brown eyes bore into mine like an animal on the hunt, and he'd just found his pray. I flinched away from him, attempting to yell, but he had replaced the gag around my mouth. I bit down on the cloth, settling with glaring at the man in front of me.

My face stung from the punch to the face I had suffered, my ribs stung with each breath I took, and now my wrist hurt from pulling at them. I glanced around seeing we must have been in one of the warehouse. How long had I been out? Where the Winchesters looking for me?

Gordon moved away from me, attracting my attention. He straightened up and pulled out his phone. He dialed a number and then waited for someone to answer.

"Dean," Gordon said into the phone. My heart rate picked up at the sound of his name and I sat up straighter, trying to hear the conversation, but I couldn't catch a thing. "…Scent's all over the cell phone store. Of course, I can't smell you now. Where are you?" Gordon paused, listening to Dean on the other end, "I'd rather you come to me… I don't think so."

Gordon held the phone against my ear, ripping the gag from my mouth. Of the million things that suddenly popped in my head that I could say to Dean, maybe should say, the line that came out was, "So get this, I got kidnapped."

"True. Don't worry," Dean said earnestly, there was shuffling on the other end and I knew what he was about to say even before he said it, "We are coming for you."

"No, Dean, you don't understand-"

Gordon took the phone away and pressed against his own ear, yanking the gag back into place, "Factory on Riverside off the turnpike. Be here in twenty minutes or I'll kill your girlfriend… Bye, Dean… No, I am a monster."

Gordon snapped the phone shut and glanced down at me. He rested against one of the pipes, his eyes drifting off into space. I clanked the metal of my cuff against the pipe, creating a rhythmic tapping noise. Gordon's eyes drifted back to me, slight annoyance trickling into his look.

"I didn't want it to be this way," Gordon said softly, "But I have no choice. Sam Winchester has to die."

"Mhatemer," I mumbled over my gag, rolling my eyes.

"He's a half-breed," Gordon explained to me, "An abomination. Guzzled down demon blood as a baby, gave him psychic abilities. He's the last one. Once he's dead, it will all be over."

I bit down harder on the cloth in my mouth. We waited in silence after that. I counted to sixty over and over again, pressing one of my nails against my skin every time I completed a minute. I was at eighteen when Gordon suddenly straightened. His nostrils flared as he looked around, indicating he smelt something. Gordon didn't say anything; instead he walked backwards, disappearing into the shadows. I waited until I was sure he was gone before I inched up straighter.

I felt around in my hair, finding one of the bobby bins I used to keep my braid in place and pulled it out. I maneuvered the pin into a straight line, flipping it back and forth until it snapped in the middle. Using the broken end, I dug it into the lock of the cuffs. I unlocked one, and then stood before unlocking the other. Pulling the gag from my mouth, I let it hang around my neck and glanced after Gordon to see if he had made a reappearance, he hadn't. Feeling uneasy, I spun around and hurried in the opposite direction.

It was dim in the warehouse, making it hard to see. I kept my hand pressed against the wall as I rounded a corner. I had only taken a few steps when I was hit from the side and was slammed into the wall. I let out a grunt as my attacker spun me around to face him. Not wasting time on getting bitten, I shoved my attacker away and slammed my fist against his jaw.

"Damn it," Dean grunted, stumbling backwards. Sam rushed forward, shining a light at us.

"Dean!" I nearly shouted when I realized it was him. I launched myself at him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Dean caught me, wrapping his arms around my waist, holding me tight, "You scared the shit out of me, True. Are you okay?"

"I've been better," I said, breathing sigh of relief. It took a minute for me to realize that we were still holding each other in a tight embrace. I stepped out of Dean's grasp, dropping my hands to my side, "But Gordon's a vampire."

"We know," Sam said.

"Oh," I said, my brows pulling together in confusion, "Of course you know. How the hell do you know?"

"It's a long story," Sam said, indicating for us to move, "Great for the ride outta here."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Dean asked, ignoring Sam and dropping his voice as he stepped forward so that he was mere inches from me.

He took my chin in his hand and turned up my face so he could look at the welt that Gordon had left on my jaw. I could still feel it pulsing, and had to resist covering it with my hand. I was taken aback by the concern in his voice and could only stare into his mesmerizing eyes. I had no words and barely manage a nod with his grip on my chin.

"Come on," Sam hissed, breaking whatever spell Dean had over me, "Kiss later. We gotta get out of here."

Dean turned, releasing me and heading back the way we had come with the Colt at the ready. I followed after with Sam on my heels. We moved swiftly, our feet flying across the floor as we made our way through the warehouse. We rushed through an opening, passing under it just as an overhead door slammed shut behind Dean and I, cutting us off from Sam.

"What the hell?" I snapped, spinning around.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, kicking at the door. I rushed over to the chain that was used to pull the door up and yanked on it, but it didn't give. The door stayed firmly in place.

"Dean!" Sam yelled back, banging on the other side.

"Damn it, Sam," Dean hollered, leaning both hands against the overhead door, "Sam, be careful."

Dean looked around for another way to open the door. Spotting a metal rod lying on the ground he snatched it up and begun slamming it against the raising mechanism over and over again. When he finally realized it wasn't working, Dean tossed the rod away. He turned back to me, holding out his hand, "Come on."

I took it and let Dean pull me along as we looked for a way back to Sam. Dean took the first right, rounding back around and pulling me down a hallway before taking another right. I could hear the muffled sound of voices. Dean let go of my hand, running ahead of me and I hurried to keep up. I fallowed Dean through a doorway, into another room just as Gordon and Sam came barreling through a wall, crashing to the ground. Gordon knocked Sam's machete way and stood, pulling Sam up as well and tossed him against a nearby metal shelf.

Dean sprung into action, pointing the Colt for a death shot, but Gordon rounded on him. He smacked the gun from his hands before knocking Dean backwards against the wall. His head whipped against the brick and he crashed to the floor. I somersaulted forward, blocking Gordon from Dean. I snatched up the gun and pointed it at Gordon's head. Gordon was faster, kicking my hand up just as I pulled the trigger. The shot rang out around us, the sound of the bullet colliding with the metal piping above us a reminder that I had missed.

Gordon grabbed hold of my wrist holding the Colt and twisted it. I screamed as my wrist snapped, and dropped the gun. Gordon grabbed hold of my shirt and yanked my up before tossing me roughly to the side. I smashed against the floor, sliding several feet before I came to a stop. Pain shot through my ribs and I curled into a ball, clutching at me wrist. I groaned rolling to my back, watching in horror as Gordon grabbed Dean by his jacket, pulling him to his feet and biting him on the neck.

I faintly heard Sam shouting, looking up just as he grabbed hold of Gordon's jacket and pulled him off his brother. Dean slumped to the ground as Gordon released him and turned on Sam, who was already on him and swung out his fist. Gordon ducked then popped back up and kicked Sam across the face, knocking him backward then advancing on him. I turned away from them, my focus on the bleeding Dean. I rolled over on to my hands and knees, keeping my broken wrist safely against my chest as I wobbled over to him.

I situated myself between Dean and the two fighting guys, pressing my hand against Dean's bleeding neck.

"Dean," I said softly. His eyes fluttered as his green eyes peered up at me unfocused, "You're going to be okay."

Dean's head lulled to the side, and I turned my head in the same direction, watching Sam get his ass kicked by Gordon. I looked around me, spotting the Colt a few yards away. I shoved myself to my feet and stumbled over to it. Gripping the gun in my left hand I raised it, pointing the barrel at Gordon. I wasn't a good shot with my left hand and couldn't risk hitting Sam. I cursed, rushing forward as Gordon slammed Sam into a table. Sam spun around and wrapped barbed wire around Gordon's neck. I stopped, watching Sam pull the wire tighter and tighter until he sliced through Gordon's neck, severing it from the shoulders.

Impressed, I stood there in awe as Sam looked slightly taken aback by what he had just did. Sam looked at me, eyebrows pulled together with a look mirroring my own and all I could do was stare back at him, taking in the blood spilling from his forehead and nose. Dean groaning in pain pulled us out of our amazement and I turned to see Dean struggling to his feet, leaning against the wall behind him for support. Holding his still bleeding neck, Dean stumbled toward me and Sam, looking at Sam's handy work in the same amazement. I limped over to his left side and grabbed his arm, laying it across my shoulders to help support him.

Sam stumbled forward and the three of us turned away from Gordon, heading toward the exit.

"You just charged a super-vamped-out Gordon with no weapon," Dean said, looking at Sam over the hand he still had pressed to his neck, "It's a little reckless, don't you think?"

I looked at Sam, who just sort of chucked softly at the obvious inside joke. I sighed, stumbling as we wandered back through the warehouse. Dean's grip tightened around me so he was supporting me, rather than the other way around. I wanted to sleep for a week. Well, shower, eat a horse, and then sleep for a week.

"Thanks for coming to save me, guys," I said as we left the warehouse, "How about I make you dinner?"

"You can cook?" Sam asked bemused, looking down at me.

I nodded, "How do you guys feel about meatloaf?"

"Sounds good," Dean said, eyeing the wrist I still supported against my chest. "After the hospital."

I nodded. I smiled; already amused by whatever lie we were planning on telling the doctors at the hospital about what had happened. Car crashes were so passé. I liked to lean more towards _Fight Club_ , I could finally deliver the line 'I just wanted to destroy something beautiful,' and I could point at the boys. I clenched my teeth at the thought of Sam and glanced around Dean so I could give him a once over.

I could deal with being kidnapped, lugged around by a crazy vampire, and even the broken bones, but what they had said about Sam. The words played over and over again in my mind. Sam was the Antichrist, with magical psychic powers and he had been the one to open the Devils Gate. I didn't want it to be true, Sam was so sweet. I groaned inwardly, staring down at my feet. It couldn't be true. There was no way in hell that little Sammy was what Gordon and Kubrick believed his was, but I still had to know for sure. Set with new determination, I turned my attention back to just getting out of the warehouse.

We reached the Impala rather quickly. Dean unlocked car, pulling open the backdoor and helped my slide onto the seat before shutting the door behind me. I rested my head on the cushion, with one leg on the ground and the other pressed against the door, my knee leaning against the back of the seat. I draped my good arm across my stomach, holding onto the elbow of my right arm to help keep it in place. I counted each lamppost light we passed on the way to the hospital, until my eyes were so heavy I closed them. I let my mind wander any way it liked, too tired to try not to think of anything. Lucky for me, the thing I wanted to think about most was Dean.

He had come for me, just as promised he would, even though he shouldn't have. That man was certainly something else. I could try and deny it all I wanted, but I could feel it every time I was around him. Even now, half asleep, I was acutely aware of his presence in the front seat. My need to see him wasn't something I could ignore, the pull between us was ridiculously strong and I didn't want to try and break it. That might change when I wasn't so tired, but for now it is what it is.

We reached the hospital shortly around when I had lost track of time. I grunted as I rose out of the back seat, allowing Dean to help me out of the car by my good hand.

"Go on in," Dean said, nodding his head toward the entrance, "Sam and I'll patch each other up first, then come check on you."

I shrugged, and turned away. I walked between the sliding doors and up to the front desk. The receptionist was an attractive woman, in her own way, probably around my age and wearing bring pink scrubs. Her black hair was pulled back in a tight bun, her focus on the computer in front of her. She glanced up as I approached.

"Oh, my goodness, honey," She said, standing up from her chair. She eyed the hand I cradled in my other arm, "What happened?"

"Oh," I chuckled, waving my good hand dismissively at her, "See, I got dared to jump from one building to the next, but totally missed. Landed on my wrist wrong."

"Oh, dear," The woman said, making a _tisk_ sound with her tongue, "Don't you worry your pretty little head, darlin', we'll get you fixed right up."

She smiled at me brightly and walked around the desk and placed her hand on my back, gesturing with her other hand for me to start moving. I let her lead me to an exam room where I went through the motions as the doctor x-rayed my wrist, conforming that I had a distal radius fracture. He told me I'd need a brace, and that I had to come back in about a week to get a proper cast put on it while it finished healing. I nodded, understandingly as a knock sounded at the door and Dean walked into the room. The doctor excused himself to get the brace, leaving Dean and I alone.

"What's the verdict," Dean asked, pointing at my wrist, which was currently covered by a large blue icepack.

"Broken," I conformed, lifting the icepack so Dean could see the swollen black and blue wrist, "Should take a few weeks to heal, but I'll be fine."

"Good," Dean said, nodding his head awkwardly as he slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"So is it true what they say?" I said, eyeing him, "About Sam?"

"What do you mean?" Dean said, looking at me confused, but it didn't hide the fear in his eyes as well as he thought.

"That Sam is the psychic half-breed Antichrist?" I asked innocently. Dean gave me any annoyed look, "Yeah, Kubrick and Gordon laid it out for me."

"It's not what you think," Dean said. He almost seemed disappointed for a second, but a blink later and his face was blank.

"So he's not psychic?" I asked.

"Not anymore," Dean exhaled slowly, "No more visions. Nothing."

"Visions?" I gaped at him, "He had _visions_? What the hell is he?"

"He's Sam," Dean insisted, "Just Sam. He's still my brother."

"But he did open the Devil's Gate?" I asked, dropping my gaze.

"What?" Dean snapped with enough force that I looked back at him, "No, some guy named Jake did. Sam helped close the Gate before anymore demons got out."

I dropped my gaze down to my hands, trying to process this information, "What about the demon blood, is that part true?" Dean didn't respond. I closed my eyes, "I don't think we should travel together anymore. How can I trust you, when you don't trust me?"

"Okay, listen," Dean sighed in frustration, he grabbed hold of the doctors stool and wheeled it over and plopped down on it in front of me, "When Sam and I where kids, our mother died in a fire. My dad figured out it was a demon, Azazel, and we started hunting him. A few years ago we figured out what Sam could do, and we learned that there were others like Sam, others who could do _things_."

"Psychic things?" I offered.

Dean nodded, "We learned that Azazel had given Sam drops of blood when he was a baby, and that's why he could do the things he could. Azazel wanted one of these kids to be the leader of a demon army. He gathered them up and forced them to kill each other in a winner-take-all battle. That guy, Jake, had been the victor."

"How?" I asked, shaking my head in disbelief, "If they had to kill each other, then how could Jake win if Sam's still…" My voice trained of as the light bulb clicked on in my head, "He killed Sam, so you brought him back. That's why you're going to hell."

"I couldn't let him go," Dean said softly, "It was my job to protect him."

"Dean-"

"So, Azazel," Dean said, rushing on, "He had Jake open the Devil's Gate. We killed Jake and Azazel, closing the Gate in the process. After that all Sam's physic abilities vanished."

"And that's why you're hunting the demons that got let out," I said, "'Cos you think it's your responsibility."

"It is our responsibility," Dean insisted.

I nodded slowly. I had a lot to think about. The doctor returned, saving me from having to say anything, brace in hand. Dean stood, stepping over the chair as he back toward the door.

"I'll pay the bill," Dean said to me. He hesitated before quickly cupping the back of my head, holding me still as he placed a quick kiss on my forehead, "We'll be in the waiting room for you."

I blinked, only able to stare as Dean left the exam room, closing the door behind him. I flinched as the doctor gently took my hand in his, sliding the brace into place and pulling the straps tight. I turned my hand over when he was done, looking at my swollen fingers and flexed them. What the hell had I gotten myself into?


	11. Chapter 11 Reprised

**A/N: Hello, so if you didn't notice this chapter is reprised version of chapter 11 and it is very different. I will also be remaking chapter 12.**

 **Chapter Eleven:**

 **Then**

 _The steady beating of the clock was all I could focus on. One tick meant another moment of life, another tick and still alive, but for how much longer? How long did any of us have left?_

 _I pressed my finger tips into my temples, shoving the thought so deep within my mind that it would never again see the light of day. I could not afford to think like that. I had to stay strong, to keep hope in my heart. If I failed, there would be nothing left of me. If I fell apart now, nothing would matter again._

 _I closed my eyes against the feeling of needing to cry. No more tears would come, not for days. I had been crying for almost three months, since my mother had died, and there were just no more tears left. Not that I minded. I was so tired of crying. I bowed my head, resting it against the desk, remembering a time when my world was right. A time my family was whole._

" _It's good you've stopped crying," Echo said from beside me, "Crying is a sign of weakness."_

 _I peered up at her, not sure if I wanted to yell at her or collapse in her arms. She was dressed in a simple black dress, her round face smooth as stone as her hard eyes watched me closely, with her fire red hair flowing around her shoulders making her look half crazed. I gritted my teeth, starring down at my own black dress and remained silence. It wouldn't be appropriate to pick a fight on the day of our mother's funeral. We had no body to bury, but the Circle believed it was time to stop mourning her and leave the past in the past._

 _I hated it. I hated them, all of them._

 **Now**

The pain medication given to me by the doctor at the hospital had left me in a somewhat docile state; suspend half between reality and druggy bliss. I was in no position to cook, and quite honestly I hadn't given much thought to food at all. As we left the hospital, the cool night air whisked away some of the grogginess and I was able to walk back to the Impala, waiving of Sam's intentions to help. He resigned to opening the back door for me, while Dean did his best not to look me in the eye. I couldn't decide if that pissed me off or if I was thankful for the silence.

After I slid into the back of the Impala, Sam shut the door and hurried into the front seat. He turned around to face my, his features somber, his eyes telling me he wanted to talk about what Dean had told me, but with a quick head shake from Dean, his lips pressed into a thin line and he remained silent. Dean started the car and pulled the Impala out of the hospital parking lot. I turned away from Sam, staring blankly out the window. The thoughts in my head where not something I was ready to talk to either of them about.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sam turn back around in his seat, his shoulders slumped over. I closed my eyes, taking a slow deep breath. A war was raging inside my mind and I tried to listen to the stead beat of the classic rock playing from the radio to drown out the thoughts, but it was no use. They just got stronger and stronger.

The Winchesters had lied. They had let out the demon; all the while hiding the fact Sam was a… _something_. Deep down I knew they hadn't meant to hurt me. I mean, I understood why they didn't tell me about Sam, but they knew how important it was for me to find out who had opened the Gate and by not telling me the truth, they had put me in more danger. It was my fault; I should have seen the truth.

Dean had warned Sam about watching what he said around me. I could have face palmed with how clearly they had been hiding something and I had chosen to ignore it, just happy to have been invited along. I hadn't even tried to look past the surface; I took everything at face value and just focused on finding the demon, instead of the fact I was working with one… or _something_. Hell, for all I knew Sam _was_ the Antichrist, an abomination that would destroy the world.

I had never heard of people getting magic powers from drinking demon blood, never knew it was possible or that anyone had tried. And though I wasn't much for religion, I did believe anything was possible, but Sam evil? I glanced at the back of Sam's head, pictured his warm eyes, his soft grin, and his _goodness_. The kid had more sympathy then I did. Still there was no telling what the demon blood entailed, or how far his psychic abilities could go. Where they even truly gone? Was Gordon right about killing him? The thought sent sickening chill down my spine and I shook my head in disgusted with my train of thought.

"How about there?" Sam asked suddenly.

I glanced up, noticing that we were pulling into the parking lot of a motel. The neon sign that stood high by the side walk said _The Hidden Jewel Motel_ in blue. I glanced around us as Dean pulled up to the main office. Along the opposite streets were a few other motels, some run down shops and a few empty lots, I doubted there was anything hidden or jewel like of this motel. The parking lot was mostly empty except a few cars parked in front of occupied rooms. The office was a pretty standard square building, with large windows that I'm sure where meant to make it feel welcoming. The hotel it's self didn't look half bad, with its brownish brick walls and well kept bushes, but it was still cheap.

Dean cut the engine and pushed open his car door, "Stay here."

Dean slammed his car door shut and walked into the main office. Sam and I sat in silence, and it was one of the rare moments that I didn't want to talk to cut the awkwardness of it all. Sam fidgeted in front of me, shifting around in his seat. I watched the back of his head, secretly daring him to turn around and say something. Sam shifted around to look at me.

I started at him horrified that he had actually heard me. I threw open my car door and jumped out, barley remembering to shut the door behind me as I hurried toward the office. I heard the car door open and Sam calling out to me, but I didn't stop. I shoved open the office door with a little too much force and it banged against the wall.

The man behind the counter jumped slightly, while Dean turned around looking mildly bored. When his eyes fell on me, his features locked down before any emotions could slip through the cracks. Ignoring Dean, I smiled apologetically at the man behind the counter. He was older, mid-to-late thirties, with thinning black hair and a patchy beard. He smiled at me, like a hawk looking at a mouse, as his pale brown eyes trailed down my body.

I walked to the counter, and Dean turned back around. He must of caught the way Hawk-man was staring because he straightened, puffing out his chest. I glanced over at Dean, but he wasn't looking at me. He had his eyes fixed on the other man, looking like a poacher ready for a kill.

"What can I do for you, little lady?" Hawk-man asked, regaining my attention. He leered at me, his eyes not rising above my chest.

"I'm with him," I said, jerking my thumb in Dean's direction. Hawk-man deflated slightly, but never took his eyes off me, "He's asking for one room, right?"

Hawk-man nodded slowly, to distract to really hear what I was saying.

"Well, I want my won room," I said. Hawk-man's head snapped up, new hope glistening in the lights of his eyes, "Adjacent rooms."

"Now, wait a minute," Dean said, putting his arm out in front of me as if he could stop this from going any further.

I shoved his arm away, " _Adjacent rooms._ "

"I don't think that's a good idea," Dean snapped.

"Funny how it's not up to you," I snapped back. I turned back to Hawk-man, "Do you have adjacent rooms, one with two queen sized beds? The other room only needs one. In fact, it doesn't even have to be a queen bed."

"I sure do, little lady," Hawk-man said, smiling at me and shooting Dean a smug look. I had to give my props to Dean, he clenched his hands into tight fist and a murderous look crossed his face, but he stayed on his side of the counter.

Hawk-man slid two keeps over to us, one for room six and the other for seven. He swiped Dean's credit card before I could offer to pay for my own room. He pointed out that both rooms had two queen sized beds so it didn't matter which keys we took. I snatched up the key for room seven and spun around heading for the door, feeling more than seeing Dean hot on my heels.

I had just pulled it open when Hawk-man yelled, "Have a good night, little lady."

I ignored him, which was a good think because Dean hadn't stopped at the door, half pushing me outside. He was walking so close behind me I could feel the tension radiating off his body. He grabbed hold of the door and slammed it shut, hard enough to cause the windows of the office to shake from the force.

I heard his intake of breath, and spun around and yelled, "I need space!"

Dean's mouth was opened from what he was about to say. He snapped it shut, and a full minute passed before he yelled, "It's not safe! It'll be better if we stayed together."

"Adjacent rooms, Dean!" I pointed out again, "We'll leave the doors unlocked, but I need to be alone. I need time to think!"

"We'll leave you alone, you can think in the same room as us," Dean pointed out.

"It's not the same!" I threw my hands in the air and turned away from him. Sam was standing half in, half out his car door. He looked from Dean to me and back again, his jaw clenched. I ignored him and walked around the Impala to the trunk, and pointed at it, "Pop the trunk. I'll walk from here."

"Get in the car, True," Dean said as he pulled open the driver's side door of the Impala, "I'll drive you."

I pointed in the general direction I assumed room seven was in, "It's like right there, dumbass, I can walk!"

"Damn it, True," Dean snapped, slamming the car door shut as he stormed over to me, "I'm trying to protect you!"

"Well, you're doing one hell of a job!" I snapped back, "Considering Sam's the Antichrist!"

The instant I said it, I regretted it. Face palm number two. I turned to see the hurt look spread across Sam's face. I stared at him, my mouth flopping open and closed like a fish. He gave me one of his small, understanding smiles, and that only broke my heart more. He shuffled uncomfortably side to side, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Sam, I'm sorry," I said finally, and sighed, "I didn't mean it. I'm just- I don't- I just don't know."

I walked around Dean and crossed the graveled parking lot, not looking back at the boys. I glanced up, hearing the mummers of people who had opened their doors to gawk at the people fighting. Some of the people retreated back into their rooms when the caught me glaring, but one couple turned to each other and whispered. I didn't care. I found room seven, which wasn't far from the front office, and unlocked it. Slipping inside, I shut the door and relocked it behind me.

I stood in the middle of my room, taking in the diarrhea colored carpet, the yellowing walls that looked like they might have been white in a past life, and the ugly floral bedding that matched the rest of the room. I was too tired to be grossed out. Instead I just stood there, until a soft knock came from the adjacent door.

I walked over and unlocked it, pulling it open to find Dean standing in the door way. He held up my duffle back, looking at me with that all too familiar blank look. I took the strap of my duffle, slung it over my shoulder and shut the door.

I was standing before a fire that burned so bright and hot I could feel my skin begin to blister. Bloodcurdling screams seemed to vibrate around me and I fought the desire to reach up and cover my ears. Instead I strained to see through the flames were a figure stood in the center. I realized in horror that it was Sam, tied to a stake and burning like a witch. I watched through the smoke as his skin charred, changing to black.

I shot up in bed, drenched in sweat and panting like I had just run a marathon. My stomach turned, and I clenched my jaw but my stomach was too empty for bile. I stared around me, desperate to save Sam from the fire only for my eyes to fall on a shadow standing in the far corner of the room. I spun in bed and clicked on the bedside lap, grabbing my gun out from under my bed in one sooth movement. I turned back around, my gun at the ready, but there was no one in the corner. I pushed the covers away from me and slowly climbed out of bed, keeping my gun cocked.

I did a quick check of the room, checking under the bed, in the closet, and the bathroom. I walked over to the adjacent doors and peeked underneath the door to see if there was a light on, but it was completely dark. I stood and slowly opened the door peaking inside the room to see both Sam and Dean sleeping soundly in their room, the sound of their soft snores telling me they were both alive. I closed the door and headed over to the front door to check that it was locked. I then pulled back the window curtain just enough for me to look out across the motel parking lot. It was empty.

A part of me wished the shadow was just part of the dream, but the hunter in my new it wasn't. Something had been in my room, but it was gone. At least for now. That was enough for me.

Leaving the light on, I flopped back down on the bed and closed my eyes, but flashes of Sam burning to death were scared across the back of my eyelids so I quickly opened them. I blinked up at the brown ceiling and tilted my head to the side, then back again. Then to the other side and back. And then I sighed. Sitting back up in bed I glanced at the clock on the bed side table and the bright red numbers told me it was almost five in the morning. I hadn't slept more the a couple hours. The sick feeling hadn't left me and I knew sleep was not in my near future.

I sat back up and turned my gaze to my empty stomach with a disapproving sigh; it was time for a feeding. No better time than now. I tossed back the covers and heaved my legs off the bed. The longer I was awake the more sore I begun to feel. My wrist started to throb as I fumbled to pull on my boots, not bothering to retie them as a slid on my jacket. I slumped over to my bag and dug around for spare change for the vending machine. Gathering several dollars and some quarters, I left the hotel room counting the money.

I was greeted by cool night air that woke me up a little more. I paused, closing my eyes and tilted my head to the sky, breathing deeply. The occasional car driving past was the only sound. Yawning, I made my way down the little side walk in front of the motel rooms toward the main office where I could see the rectangular shape of the vending machines. I was half way there when I glanced up and noticed the old phone booth on the other side of the parking lot, just under the neon motel sign. I hesitated only a moment before walking over to it and sliding the glass door open.

Sliding the door shut behind me with my broken hand, I took the phone of the receiver with the other and tucked it between my ear and shoulder. Hearing the dial tone, I slid the correct amount of change into the slot to make a call and dialed Claire's number. I leaned heavily on the glass wall listening to the phone ring. I needed to talk to her, tell her everything that happened so she could help me decide what to do. She didn't answer the phone, instead I got her voicemail.

" _Hey, you reached Claire's voicemail_ ," Claire's recorded message informed me, " _Leave a message and I'll be sure she gets it. Bye!_ "

"Hey, it's me," I said after the beep, "I'm just checking in. Call my cell when you get this."

I hung up the phone with a disappointed clack. I turned to find Sam standing in front of the phone both door, peering in at me.

"Shit," I jumped back at his sudden appearance. Shooting me an apologetic look, Sam reached up and slid the door open.

"Sorry," he said softly, hunching his shoulders as he slid his hands into his jean pockets. He glanced around us, before his hazel eyes met mine again, "What are you doing out here?"

"I couldn't sleep," I told him, folding my arms around me as if that would protect me, "I was kinda hungry so I figured I'd get something from the vending machine."

Sam scoffed softly at me, "Then what are you doing in there?"

"Calling the Freedom Police to make sure I still had the right to do what I want," I said sarcastically, "What's with the twenty questions?"

Sam sighed, but rather then looking mad or hurt, he gave me an understanding look, which only made me feel guilty, and said, "I guess you're not sure how to deal with the whole psychic thing, huh?"

"I was calling Claire to talk about it," I admitted heavily and pushed past Sam and continued on my mission for food, "I'm more hung up on the whole demon blood bit, actually."

"I get it," Sam said, shortening his long-legged stride to keep pace beside me, "It freaked me out at first too, but that doesn't change anything. I'm still the same Sam."

"Yeah," I said, "but there's a difference between the Sam I thought you were and the Sam you actually are, so it's like I don't even know you now. Not that I ever really did."

I'd only known them for less than a week, how much could I actually know about them? I hadn't thought I'd known all their deep dark secrets, but I had been completely open with mine. Was it too much to ask for them to do the same? I guess it was at first, but then why did Dean confess the truth to me? What did he have to gain from it? They could have just sent me away, or left me at the hospital. They didn't have to tell me the truth, but they did. That's a plus, I guess.

"I _am_ the Sam you think I am," Sam continued earnestly, sounding almost worried, like he was desperate for me to believe him.

"That's the rub, though," I said, coming to a stop at the vending machine by the front office, "I don't know what I think of you anymore."

Sam didn't meet my eye, not that I wanted him too. Instead he kept his eyes focused on the machine as I picked out a pack of Cheetos to eat, his eyebrows pulled low with concern. I reached into the flap at the bottom to receive my goodies. I waited until I straightened up before saying, "Look, if you're worried I'm going to try and kill you or something, don't be. I don't want you dead; I just don't know what this all means."

"It doesn't-"

"Stop," I said, cutting Sam off, "I need time to think. I need time to process this, Sammy."

With that I turned on my heels and headed back down the sidewalk. Sam fell into step beside me, starring down at his feet. I tore open my Cheetos bag and held it out to him as an offering. He gave me his little half smile before reaching into the bag and plucking out a single chip. He popped it in his mouth, chewing slowly as he turned his gaze back to the sidewalk.

"It's Sam," he said after swallowing

I blinked at him, confused, and then realizing his meaning said, "Not any more it isn't."

"Yeah, well, at least I didn't get kidnapped," Sam countered his tone light and playful.

"I'm not at my best," I said, trying to force nonchalance and forget the truths that hung above us like storm clouds, "I'm still weak from the last fight."

"Yeah," Sam said, his voice tight from doing the same thing as me, "Or you're just a terrible hunter."

"Oh, take that back," I shouted, forgetting it was still early morning. I spun around and slapped Sam on the shoulder with my good hand. He laughed, ducking away from me. I moved to slap him again but he threw up his arm to block the hit, "Take it back, or I'll find a way to shove you in the trunk!"

"You're like two feet tall!" Sam laughed, taking hold of my good wrist to stop my punches and nearly causing me to drop my chips, "You couldn't even drag me an inch! Plus, you're hurt. Not much help there, as you already so helpfully pointed out."

"I'll get Dean," I said, trying to pull my arm free.

"He'd never turn against me!" Sam laughed.

That was probably true. Defeated, I pulled my arm free and spun back around and continued on my way, popping another Cheeto in my mouth, "You're so mean."

"Aw, come on," Sam said, reaching over to ruffle my hair, "Don't be a baby."

I spun back around to slap him again, but again he blocked the hit. He looked so innocent, smiling at me with strands of hair falling into his eyes. I couldn't picture him being the monster Gordon had made him out to be. He was still the Sam, the same boy who was so focused on saving lives he glossed right over flirting with hot chicks in clubs.

I smiled sadly at the memory. Whatever Sam was or wasn't, Dean had been right, Sam was still just Sam. Finding out about the demon blood had changed everything, and nothing. I wasn't okay with the demon blood, I couldn't be. It was just too wrong, but it wasn't Sam's fault. Not all hunters would see it that way, the Circle sure as hell wouldn't. Sam was in danger.

The Circle was looking for the one who opened the Devil's Gate, and if they found Sam and learned about what he is they'd kill him. Dean would get in the way, to save Sam, and end up dead in the process. I could stop the Circle, lead them away. I could convince them Azazel had opened the Gate and that hunters had stopped him, and that was the end of that. They would leave, the Winchesters would be safe. As long as they didn't look into Azazel's motives, that is.

Returning to our separate hotel room, I kicked off my boots and sat at the head of my bed, cross legged and using the backboard to prop me up as I finished my chips. I tossed my trash onto the nightstand and dusted the crumbs from my hands. I'd have to get in touch with Echo, she was my one chance of convince the Circle to leave. If she believed me, then there was getting her to leave. Something that wouldn't be easy until the demon was dead, but I could handle her.

I slipped back out of bed and gathered my clothes into my duffle bag, before tossing it on the bed and slipped my boots back on my feet. I tied them to the right about of snugness and slid on my jacket and walked over to the adjacent doors, opening them and stepping into the other room. I listened, hearing the soft snoring for both boys, and then turned to Dean's bed. I knelt down by his head.

"Dean," I said softly, shaking his shoulder. He shot up, propping his body on his elbow, and placed a hunting knife he must have kept under his pillow against my throat. I jerked back out of reflex, my hand shoot up to check the skin for blood. He hadn't cut me.

"Jesus, True," Dean hissed as he tucked the knife back under his pillow. He glanced from Sam, who was still asleep, to the hand that covered my neck. He moved my hand away, using his thumb to tilt my chin up to take a look, "What that hell are you doing?"

"I know that it took a lot to tell me about Sam," I whispered, pushing his hand away, "I'm not okay with it, but I won't do anything to hurt Sam."

"Okay," Dean said slowly, blinking at me trying to read what I was getting at.

"I promise Sam's secret will be safe. I won't tell anyone," I continued.

"I know," Dean said softly, "What's this about?"

I quickly explained my plan to try and get the Circle off of the Azazel trail; not letting Dean interrupt me every time he opened his mouth or started shaking his head, and then informed him that I needed to get in touch with Echo to do so. This was not something I could do while the boys were around. I didn't want Echo knowing anything about them.

"True-"

"Dean, they will kill Sam if I don't do something," I said, "We can't stop them in a head on fight, trust me. This is the only way. I have to go."

"What if they don't believe you?" Dean countered, "What then?"

"Then we will regroup," I said, shrugging my shoulders, "Goodbye, Dean."

I stood up and turned to return to my room, but Dean caught my wrist forcing me to turn back to him. He stared up at me, half sitting up in bed now, his jaw clenched tight. I waited for him to say something, his fingers pressing hard enough into the skin of my wrist to cut off the circulation.

It had only been a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity when he finally said, "Be careful, True."

I nodded, and this time when I turned to leave, he let me go. I didn't bother closing the door as I crossed my room and swung my duffle back over my shoulder. I tucked my gun into the back of my pants, clicked off the light, and left the room.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

 **Now**

My phone chimed, but I ignored it. I paced back and forth, listening to the Christmas music playing from the stereo sitting on the counter in the kitchen without really hearing the worlds. I didn't pick up my feet and my boots scrapped against the carpet with each step. I twisted my fingers together, and tried to take deep breaths to calm my inner turmoil. I had to figure out how to say this just right, to convince Echo to tell the Circle to leave, that there was nothing left for them here. If I slipped up or gave too much away, Echo would hound me until she figured out the answer.

"Would you stop pacing," Claire asked, she had been cleaning the house in between cooking Christmas dinner, a nervous habit she started when I stated mine. She was dressed in a pretty white thigh lengthen dress that was even brighter against the yellow gloves she was wearing that went all the way up to her elbows, "You're freaking me out!"

"Sorry," I said, but continued to walk the length of Claire's new apartment's living room, the anticipation of having to see my sister again had put me in a weird mood, "I can't help it."

It was a nice apartment. Warm light poured from lamps and white Christmas lights that she had hung around the edges of the ceiling, causing a homey feeling over the modern decorated room. It looked more like a loft, with large open space that contained the dining room, kitchen, and living room all in one room. One wall was made of red brick, while the others were painted white. There were stairs off the right that led up to a landing and several doors lined neatly along the wall were the bedrooms where.

Claire had set a few Christmas trinkets in all the rooms, a Santa here and snowman there, and a tall green Christmas tree, decorated expertly, was standing in one corner. We had already wrapped our presents, something I did last night because I couldn't sleep, and had arranged them neatly under the tree. The apartment looked like a Christmas catalog promoting happy family memories. For me Christmas was something I only did for Claire, it wasn't something we Van Helsing's celebrated growing up. Plus a jolly fat guy creeping down my chimney at night always kind of freaked me out.

"Did you want to open a present?" Claire said suddenly, "Maybe that will calm you down."

I smiled reassuringly at her, "Nothing can calm me down."

"It'll be okay," Claire said as she scrubbed the counter which was already pretty clean, "I don't know why you're so stressed anyway, isn't this a good thing?"

I chewed on the inside of my check. I spent the whole plane right back to Salt Lake trying to decide what all I should tell her, despite my moment of weakness back at the hotel. Now that the shock of it all had faded and I had time to really think about it, I figured Claire was safer the less she new. I'd tell her one day, probably, years down the road. For now though she wasn't on the needed to know basis.

I cleared my throat and continued pacing, glancing at the clock. It was five till two in the afternoon, the time Echo had agreed to show up at the apartment. Usually she would have been here by now, she loved saying that if she wasn't fifteen minutes early she was fifteen minutes late. A sinking feeling fell into my stomach and my mind went wild concocting all the things that could have gone wrong. It was almost a relief when there was a knock at the door, but when I turned to answer it I froze.

What if it wasn't Echo but someone else? What if it was the Circle? What if it was the Winchesters? The thoughts all kept me planted firmly where I was. I could feel Claire watching me, but I couldn't force myself to move. I swallowed hard as the person on the other side of the door knocked again. After another moment's hesitation I heard Claire slip off her gloves and watched her when she passed me on her way to the door.

I peeked around Claire as she opened the door and caught a glimpse of red hair, before she stepped back and allowed Echo to walk into the apartment. Echo walked up to me, stopping about six feet away. Her hair was pulled back in a French braid, the end of it draped over her right shoulder. She was wearing a green shirt that shimmered when she moved and blue jeans. I smirked at her grey and white running shoes she was wearing.

"You look good," Echo said as way of greeting, her jaw tight with forced nonchalance.

Moments like this hadn't really been our strong points. Somewhere along the line as we had gotten older, it had become harder and harder for us to talk about the normal sister stuff. I started getting more into clothes and guys, and she got deeper into hunting. For me hunting had been a choice, something I wanted to do. For Echo it had become her life, something she _had_ to do. We started drifting apart, the only thing holding us together was the Circle, and I had cut that cord.

I sighed and walked over and slid my arms around her shoulders and the backpack she was wearing, pulling her against me. She hugged me back automatically. She felt warm and safe, like home, the way only family could. Even more then Claire did. I gripped her tighter, breathing in a scent of coconut shampoo, suddenly missing her the way I had done when I had first left. She filled an ache in my heart I didn't even know I still had.

"Thanks for come," I said, pulling out of her embrace.

"How could I not?" Echo said matter-of-fact, looking shocked that I had hugged her, "You don't call, you don't write, then suddenly you want to meet up? I had to come."

I rolled my eyes. She was trying to force nonchalance, but the way she said those four words told me she would have come no matter what. Some emotions she could hide. I cleared my throat, "Who all knows your here?"

"Don't worry," Echo said, shaking her head at me, "I didn't tell Victoria where you are, or even that I was coming to meet you, just as you asked."

"How is old gloom and doom Victoria?" I asked through gritted teeth as I turned from Echo.

I didn't really want to know. Victoria was the current leader of the Circle, and I hated her. She was cold, calculated, and ruthless. She was the reason the Circle had fallen so far from the hope it once stood for. She believed that nothing was more important the stopping the evil, and we would do that no matter the cost. Even if that cost was her own people. I walked over to the faded leather couch, which Claire and insisted was designed to look that way, and plopped down to wait for Echo's response.

"Same as always," Echo said, she turned her head to the side slightly and smirked, "Why? Miss her?"

I took a deep breath planning a lengthy answer about how I could never miss the spawn of Satan, but all I said was, "No."

"To bad," Echo said, the sarcasm in her voice told me she enjoyed this far more then she should, "She sure misses you."

"I bet," I smiled slightly back, and tried not to gag at having to see her again. I couldn't imagine Victoria missing anyone, or anything, with her stone heart. "We should get down to business."

"Good idea," Echo said, her voice getting back the all too familiar hardness it always did when she was in hunter mode, "You said you knew something about the Devil's Gate being opened."

I gritted my teeth, it wasn't a question but I nodded, "I know _who_ opened."

"What do you know?" Echo demanded, rushing over and taking a seat in the matching armchair. She dropped her backpack on the floor beside her and leaned her elbows on her knees to glare at me.

I nodded again, "A demon named Azazel."

"How did you figure this out?" Echo asked, "We've been trying to dig up information on this and came up empty handed!"

This was the tough spot I had feared. I took a slow breath and plastered a blank look on my face, "I was on a hunt and ran into some other hunters, they mentioned that they had been tracking some demonic omens, lead them right to him. They managed to exorcize him and close the gate."

"Who were they?" Echo eyed me closely, her eyes accusing. It was the look only a sister could give you, worried that I had gotten this information from sleeping with them. When she spoke again her voice was filled with venom, "These hunters you met?"

I shrugged, "I think they said their name was Cartwright or something. I wasn't really paying attention; I was more focused on the demon part of the conversation."

"Azazel," Echo repeated, her focus shifting to nothing in particular as she considered this, "Why would he want to open the Gate?"

"Because it's a _Devil's_ Gate?" Claire offered as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. She had made her way back to the kitchen to continue cooking, not really interested in the topic, but unable to resist getting involved, "To let all his demon buddies out?"

"Then how did he do it?" Echo asked, "It was in the middle of a pentagram to keep the demons _out_."

I sat up a little on the couch, trying to look more interested in the conversation, like I wanted to learn the truth as bad as she did, "Maybe he promised some poor sod his weight in gold if they opened it."

Echo's head turned slight to the side, deliberating this, "It's a door though, where's the key?"

I opened my mouth, and then closed it again. I hadn't thought about this and Dean hadn't mentioned anything about a key, not that I asked. "Maybe it's lost; maybe one of the demons snatched it up."

"Maybe," Echo repeated, "We'll have to find it to make sure no one else is able to open it."

We all fell silent as we thought on this. I would have to remember to ask one of the Winchesters if they knew what the key was, or if the door just magical opened. Hell, for all we knew it didn't need a key, but just needed someone to open it. No one in the Circle would have tried, wouldn't want to risk any more demons getting out.

"Why are you using your American accent," Echo asked suddenly, glaring at me.

"Because True Bennett is American," I replied simply.

"You're not a Bennett," Echo snapped, "You're-"

"Yes, I am," I snapped, cutting off Echo.

"It's Christmas, let's not fight," Claire said, cutting us off. She stared at me, seeing the argument I could feel brewing in my eyes, "I making Christmas dinner. You'll stay for dinner, won't you, Echo?"

"Um, I mean, I-I guess," Echo said, cleared shocked at the offer. She glanced at me, "I hadn't planned on it."

"You're free to stay," I told her, getting to my feet, "At least for the night."

"We still have things to discus," Echo informed me, indicating for me to stay.

"Like what?" I said, sitting back down.

"Well," Echo said reaching into her bag and pulling out a file. She handed it to me, "While you were playing the runaway, this is what we dug up on the demon hunting us."

I rolled my eyes and gazed down at the file. It was plain and white and not very thick. Disappointed, I took it and flipped it open and shifted through the contents. It was mostly newspaper articles, the same ones about the girls with a similar name to mine that Dean had first showed me, some witness accounts and a few pieces of notebook paper with Echo's delicate cursive writing filling the pages. I flipped through the articles until I found the one about the demon who started the fire at the fundraiser: Seven Dead after Fire.

"If those hunters you met are right, and this happened 'cos of Azazel," Echo started, "Then he let it out. Before I came to the States, I was attacked by a demon calming to be working for another demon."

"So was I," I told her, looking up at my sister, "But I wasn't attacked until months later."

Echo nodded, "I don't think they knew where you were, or even that you'd left, and I thought that I could find the bugger before it figured that out. After you called me, I looked into the events that were happening in Salt Lake and found out about the fire. After checking on Claire, I realized you had already left."

"Did you ask Claire where I was?" I asked, turning to look at Claire. She looked up at the sound of her name, but apparently she had stopped paying attention.

Echo shook her head, "I didn't even talk to her."

"So, why is the demon sending the lower class to attack us? Why not just come itself?" I asked.

"I don't know," Echo admitted, leaning back in her seat, "Maybe it can't, it's too weak, or there's something else going on that we don't know about."

I pressed my lips together, remembering how Dean had said Azazel wanted a leader for his demon army. Did that have something to do with it? Was my demon somehow apart of the war that was brewing. If that was the case, then shit was about to hit the fan big time. Echo and I weren't high enough on the food chain anymore, which meant whatever Sam and Dean where involved in was a whole lot bigger than me. What did this have to do with the Winchesters? What could be so important that a demon would skip out on its revenge?

That's what worried me. A demon army, led by a psychic human… to where? Against what? The humans? Any and all things good? Why would demons even need a leader in the first place? Let alone a human one. I thought they all just fallowed the devil or whatever.

"Since we both got attacked, there could be countless demons… after… us," Echo's voice trailed off. I glanced at her to see her tilt her head to the side as she leaned over the coffee table glancing down at my phone.

I looked down, seeing the screen was lit up with another text. I hadn't heard it go off. I leaned forward, and snatched the phone up before sliding it into the back pocket of my jeans. I went through the file again, pretending not to see Echo narrowing her eyes at me, and read her notes. There was nothing there that I didn't already know, and I was left with more questions than I had answers.

"Years of fearing this demon, and it can't even come after us itself. I'm insulted," I mumbled, getting us back on track.

"It's not safe for you, or any of us," Echo snapped, "You should come back, True. I'm supposed to bring you back _when_ I find you."

"Are you going to?" I asked, not looking at her. Frustrated, I pushed all the papers back into the file, slamming it shut, and dropped my head against the back of the couch.

"That's up to you," Echo mumbled softly.

I stared up at her. I would never want to go back; I'd rather have my eyes gouged out with a wooden spoon. I know Echo would want me to return, but the Circle was all she had ever none. She'd never have the courage or reason to just walk away like I had. I'm not gonna lie, a part of me misses it. Well, not the Circle itself, but the people weren't all bad and the vast amounts of knowledge didn't hurt either. Sam would probably love to spend a day in the libraries.

"Well, I'm not going back," I told her, "I'll just disappear like I did last time."

"You think you just disappeared?" Echo asked.

"Yeah?" I said, narrowing my eyes at her.

"Britney Phillips?" Echo said, looking at me like I was stupid.

I could have done a full on face palm. Britney Philips was the name on the account I used to take money from Echo. "You knew about that this whole time?"

"Of course I did," Echo snapped, "Did you really think you could get something like this past me? Do you really think I would have just _let_ you leave without knowing where you went or what happened to you?"

Honestly, I had. I had never tried to be sneakier with anything then when I had run away. I doubled, even triple, checked to make sure that I had covered my tracks. Now I realized that it was stupid to think that I could get away with it when Echo was so good at figuring things out.

"Then why didn't you come after me?" I asked, "Why didn't you bring me back?"

Echo took a deep breath, "I thought that if I tried to bring you back it would have only pushed you farther away. I figured you would have come back eventually. It was better to let you leave then lose you."

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. That was not what I was expecting. I thought for sure if she ever found me she would drag me kicking and screaming home, but she left me alone. All because she hoped that I would come back. I had no idea how to respond to that. I had a new found appreciation for my big sister.

Echo cleared her throat, shifting awkwardly in her seat, "You should come back."

"I can't."

Not after what I just found out, I had to go back to the Winchesters. Whatever Sam was, whatever Azazel had been planning, it wasn't something I could turn my back on. I couldn't tell Echo or ask for help or I'd risk her finding out about Sam. I had to warn them and help anyway I could. With Dean going to hell, we'd have to hurry, or there would be no telling what would happen to Sam or any of us.

"What's wrong?" Echo asked, looking me up and down.

"What do you mean?" I peaked up at her, "I'm fine."

"You're grinding your teeth," Echo said, crossing her arms over her chest, "Clearly something is wrong."

I looked back at the file before dropping it onto the coffee table, "I need to pee."

I stood up and had to force myself to walk as I made my way up the stairs and pushed open the third door on the landing and stepped inside my room, flicking on the light as I shut the door. Claire had bought a new bed, choosing dark wood, and a matching dresser and book shelf. The comforter she had chosen was elegant, with dark browns and blues. A mirror was hanging over the dresser, its edges covered in twisted vines that lead to the top ending in heart shape. The style felt very queen-like.

I sighed. Leaning against the door and pulled my phone opening up the new messages I had gotten from Sam. He texted me once or twice a day, asking me if I was okay or letting me know where they were going. I couldn't bring myself to text him back, couldn't figure out what to say back. Today, one text was asking about an evil Santa the other one pleading with me to respond so he at least knew I was alive. I pressed my thumb against his message until the option popped up for me to call him. I clicked it and held the phone to my ear. The phone had only ringed once when he answered.

" _True! You're okay_!" Sam huffed into the phone, sounding out of breath.

"Yeah, I'm okay," I said, "Are you?"

" _Yeah, yeah, we're fine_ ," Sam said, I could hear the smile in his voice, " _Just, you know, on a hunt. What about you? Where have you been?_ "

"Salt Lake. Sorry, I would have texted back but I just need some time," I said.

" _Right, I get it. Really_ ," Sam said, he sounded like he truly meant it, " _What are you going to do_?"

"I need to come back," I told him, "We need to talk, in person. Something big is coming, and I don't think we are ready for it. I'll text you when I can."

" _Okay_ ," Sam said, " _Is this about the Circle_?"

"It's about a lot of things. I'll talk to you soon," I said, then disconnected the call. I slid my phone back into my pocket and stepped away from the door. I turned and pulled it open to find Echo standing in the hallway, her arms crossed over her chest as she starred at me. I glared right back and pushed past her, "It's rude to eavesdrop."

"Who where you talking to?" Echo asked, "Why do you need to go back?"

"It was a friend," I told her, making my way back down the stairs.

"Last I checked the only friend you had was Claire," Echo said, fallowing close enough behind me that I was afraid she'd step on my heel.

"It's been a year!" I shot back, "At least I have a friend, Ms. Lonely Loner!"

"I have friends in the Circle," Echo snapped defensively.

"They aren't friends," I told her. We had almost reached the kitchen and spun around to point an accusing finger at her, "They are teammates! You have no choice to like them 'cos if you don't you get dead!"

"That's just how you are!" Echo yelled, "Will you stop with the American accent already!"

"True Bennett is American!" I yelled back.

"You're a Van Helsing!" Echo snapped.

"Not anymore!" I said.

"Don't be daft," Echo snapped, "You can't just stop being a Van Helsing!"

"Clearly I can!" I yelled, already tired of the instant war that had sprung between us.

"Dinner's ready!" Claire said, shoving her way between us, "Let's just sit down and eat okay!"

I clenched my jaw shut, but didn't say anymore. I helped Echo carry the food into the dinner room and set it on the table while Claire laid out the plates and utensils. We sat down and dug in, have the most awkwardly quite dinner in the history of ever. I tried to remind myself that she'd leave soon and that would be the end of it, I wouldn't have to talk to her again unless I had to. The thought brought me some release, but it mostly just brought me sorrow and concern for her safety. I ground my teeth together trying to figure out what I was going to do.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen:**

 **Then:**

Dean dragged his feet as he walked back to his hotel room, exhausted from a day of hunting witches and almost dying. He was only two doors from his room when the lights around him begun to flicker, the tall tale sign of the supernatural. Dean surveyed the shadows in the darkness around him, but didn't see anything. His eyes darted across the parking lot, his attention snagging on the pretty blond girl standing a few yards away.

"So the devil may care after all. Is that what I'm supposed to believe?" Dean called out to her, his tone cynical as he tucked his hotel key into his jacket.

Ruby edged forward, her boots crunching on the gravel with each step, "I don't believe in the devil."

"Wacky night," Dean commented, his eyes tracing the stars as if they held all the answers. He stepped off the curb and walking toward the demon, his focus shifting, "So let me get this straight, you were human once. You died, you went to hell, and became-"

"Yeah," Ruby said, nodding slightly, her eyes glossing over slightly at the memory. She turned away, unwilling to remember that part of her life, unable to bear the thought of him seeing this horrible truth about her.

"How long ago?" Dean inquired, unable to curb his curiosity.

Ruby didn't turn around when she spoke, wrapping her arms tighter across her chest, "Back when the plague was big."

"So all of them, every damn demon," Dean said grimly, his revulsion of the demons paving away for pity. He took a determined step forward, praying that she would tell him he was wrong, "They were all human once?"

Ruby turned to face Dean, impassive, "Every one I ever met."

"Well, they sure don't act like it," Dean stated, thinking about all the horrible things he had seen over the years.

"Most of them have forgotten what it means," Ruby said, her tone taking on some distance, "Or even that they were. That's what happens when you go to hell, Dean. That's what hell is. Forgetting what you are."

"A philosophy lesson from a demon," Dean smirked with disbelieve, sliding his hands into his jean pockets, "I'll pass, thanks."

"It's not philosophy," Ruby snapped, shaking her head at Dean's ignorance, "It's not a metaphor. There's a real fire in the pit, agonies you can't even imagine."

"No, I saw _Hellraiser_ ," Dean joked, "I get the gist."

"Actually," Ruby said, turning from him again and wondering a few steps, "They go that pretty close, except for all the custom leather." Ruby paused before facing Dean, remembering a truth Dean needed to here, "The answer is yes, by the way."

"Sorry?" Dean asked, not catching on to what she was hinting at.

"Yes," Ruby repeated, "The same thing will happen to you. Might take centuries, but sooner or later, hell will burn away your humanity. Every hell-bound soul, every one turns into something else. Turns you into us. So, yeah, you can count on it."

Realization dawned in Dean's mind at Ruby's words, it had been something he hadn't allowed himself to consider. He hadn't wanted to accept the truth, but there was no denying it. He clenched his jaw before saying, "There's no way of saving me from the pit, is there?"

Ruby sighed, "No."

Dean nodded, accepting this. It was always something he had figured, but there was still that little bit of hope that died all the same, "Why did you tell Sam that you could?"

Ruby shrugged, "So he would talk to me. You Winchesters can be pretty bigoted. I needed something to help him get past-"

"The demon thing?" Dean cut in, "It's pretty hard to get past."

Ruby chuckled softly, her attitude becoming more mocking and less sympathetic, "Look at you, trying to be all stoic. My god, it's heartbreaking."

"Why are you telling me all this?" Dean demanded, not interested in any more of the games Ruby was playing.

"I need your help," Ruby admitted.

"Help with what?" Dean asked skeptically.

"With Sam," Ruby stated as if that should have been obvious. "The way you stuck that demon tonight, that was pretty tough. Sam's almost there but not quite. You need to help me get him ready for life without you, to fight this war on his own."

"He won't be alone."

Both Dean and Ruby's heads snapped to the side at the sudden appearance of True Bennett. She was standing only a few feet away, her brows furrowed and her jaw clenched tight. She was wearing a white sundress dress, that barely reached mid-thigh on her slim frame, underneath a black leather jacket. She topped off the look with lace up boots that reach about mid calf, with my hair flowing down around my shoulders in waves. Not practical for a hunt, but it made her look damn sexy, making Dean's heart race a few beats quicker.

True looked from Dean to Ruby, grinding her teeth together. It was a habit Dean quickly deduced was her tell when she was uncertain about something. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she considered her next words. Dean had never wanted to know what someone was thinking as badly as he did in that moment. _How much had she heard?_

"He'll never be alone," True informed him. For a split second Dean and True's eyes locked, and for a moment Dean didn't want to look away. A warm blushed spread across True's checks and her eyes darted away.

"And who are you?" Ruby asked, crossing her arms and looking at True like she was a parasite.

True licked her lips, her eyes darting to the demon like daggers, "I'm True Bennett."

A tight smile pulled across Ruby's lips, and Dean caught the subtle step she took away from True, "The Van Helsing."

"How do you know that?" Dean asked, taking an involuntary step between True and Ruby. He wasn't sure why he had done it; Ruby hadn't made any threatening motions to True, but still he felt the need to protect her.

"It was a rumor at first," Ruby flashed Dean a snide look, her lips curving into a grimace, "No one believed that the Van Helsing's were real, let alone here. There was talk of a demon, way high up, wanting to find you, but no one could. You've been covering your tracks well."

At that, Ruby turned on her heel and started to walk away. True shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She reached up her hand and ran it through her hair, looking after Ruby. She gave Dean a look, her eyes telling he that they couldn't just let her walk away.

"Ruby," Dean called, stopping her. He shot a quick glance in True's direction before looking at the blond, "Why do you want us to win?"

Ruby faced Dean, sincerity in her eyes, ignoring True, "Isn't it obvious? I'm not like them. I don't know why. I wish I was, but I'm not. I remember what it's like."

"What what's like?" True asked before Dean could.

"Being human," Ruby said simply.

True scoffed. Dean glanced at her, and she merely flexing the muscles in her shoulders as way of a non-apologetic apology. Dean pursed his lips and turned back to Ruby, but she was gone. He scanned the parking lot, but wasn't surprised that he couldn't find her. He turned back to True. Despite the gravel, she had managed to take several silent steps in his direction, and she was now less than three feet away.

"Hiya, Dean," True said, flashing him one of her brilliant smiles and lifting up a six pack of bottled Corona, "I brought beer."

 **Now:**

I stood over Sam like a creeper, peering down at him. He had been sleeping when Dean and I had entered the room, tucked underneath his blankets. I turned my head from side to side, standing on my tip toes, trying to get a better look at his head. I had wanted to wake him up so we could all talk this through, but Dean had insisted on letting him sleep. So I had consented, and left the kid alone. I'd leave it to Dean to repeat himself.

"What are you looking for?" Dean whispered. He was sitting at the dining table, slouched low in his chair and twisting open a beer. He took a sip, eyeing me cautiously.

"Horns," I joked, turning my head toward Dean so I could give him a crooked grin.

He pursed his lips and tossed the bottle cap on the table, but I could see the corner of his lips twitching, "How much did you hear, back there, with Ruby?"

I sighed, turning my focus back to Sam, "Only that you _stuck_ a demon tonight. Stuck, like with a knife?"

"Yeah," Dean said, clearing his throat, "Ruby has this knife that kills demons."

"Hm," I said, trying to remember if I had ever heard of something like that before. Nothing came to mind. It both irritated me and was completely fascinating, "Where'd she get a thing like that?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted honestly, "So, how did it go with your sister?"

"Kinda horrible actually," I responded, already feeling agitated. I ambled over to the table and took a seat across from Dean, trying not to think about it. I smoothed out my dress across my thighs before I rested my elbows on the table, propping my head on my knuckles to peer at Dean.

"Why?" Dean asked, his eyes not quite meeting mine. He pulled out another beer and opened it, sliding it across the table to me.

I wrapped my hands around the base of the bottle, interlocking my finger. I watched as the bubbles rise to the surface, just to give myself something to focus on and quirked one shoulder, "Whenever she's around I just get so... angry. I feel like I have to be something I'm not, and I hate that filling. I hate her for making me feel that way."

"Yeah, I get that," Dean mumbled, almost to quite for me to hear, and glimpsed in Sam's direction, "My dad and Sam used to be the same way."

"Where is he?" I asked almost too quickly, jumping on the chance to learn something about his past. Dean had never mentioned his father before, and I was interested in finding out about the man who had raised them. "You're dad, I mean? Sam said he's the one who started you in hunting, but that was about it."

Dean cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, eyeing his drink, "He… um, he died, a few years back."

"I'm sorry," I said softly.

We were two pees in a pod, both of us raised at hunters, both of us who have lost almost our entire family, except our siblings. I envied Dean in that moment. I wish I had the kind of relationship with Echo, where I knew she had my back and wouldn't turn me over to the Circle. I wanted to be able to talk to her, to be around her and have a conversation that didn't end in a fight. There was an emptiness in my chest, making me miss something I never really had.

"Thanks," Dean murmured. I glanced up at him as he took another gulp of his beer looking like he wasn't really sure what to say. After a moment he met my gaze, "How did you find us?"

I raised an eyebrow at him, jabbing my thumb at the sleeping mass on the bed, "Didn't Sam tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Dean sat up a little straighter, glancing from me to his brother and back again. His eyes filled with worry and exasperation, like Sam had told me something that I wasn't supposed to know and Dean didn't like it.

I scoffed, resisting the desire to ask what exactly was I not supposed to know, "I called Sam a few weeks back, told him I needed to talk to you guys."

"No, he didn't tell me," Dean muttered, not sounding at all surprised, "Talk about what?"

In a hushed tone, I quickly filled Dean on what I had learned from Echo. In the few minutes it took for the explanation, Dean had finished his beer and had moved on to his second. I took a deep breath before finishing, "You guys are the middle of this war, and that's exactly where I want to be."

"It's dangerous," Dean oh so helpfully reminded me.

I rolled my yes, "Duh, cherry pie, I know that."

"All the more reason you should stay out of this," Dean said, "It's not really your fight."

The tone of his voice made it sounded more like an order, rather than a suggestion. Instantly my rebellious side stirred just under the surface. I could see where this conversation was going, and I wasn't having any of his over protective bullshit. I sat up a little straighter in my chair, squaring my shoulders, reading myself to win the argument before it starts.

"Ok, here's the deal," I whispered, leaning forward across the table and starring him dead in the eye so he understood how serious I was, "Either you let me come with you and Sam, or I run around half cocked getting myself into all kinds of nasty trouble and possibly even getting myself killed." I paused and gave Dean a pouty look, sticking out my bottom lip and everything, "'Cos, you know, I'll be all by my lonesome."

Dean sat up in his chair and rubbed the back of his head thinking this over. He took a long sip of his beer, nearly finishing it. He licked his bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth with his tongue, his eyes hovering on my lips. A tingling sensation shot though me, but in the second it took me to blink, he had released his lip, his eyes focused on something just over my right shoulder.

"Fine, you can tag along," Dean said, making it sound as if he was doing me some huge favor.

I leaned back in my chair, smiling smugly at him. I'd take what I could get, "Fine."

A stillness settled around us. It wasn't quite awkward; in fact it was almost comfortable. That almost made it worse. I wanted to say something, to fill the air around us, not so much with words, but with the sound of his voice. I chewed on my lip. he was suddenly acutely close to me and at the same time too far away.

"I knew war was coming," Dean whispered suddenly. He scoffed, smirking slightly. I blinked, taken aback slightly by his words, how his train of thought had been so different from mine, "A few months ago, I even wished it'd start already."

"Did you, now?" I whispered back, shaking myself mentally to get myself back on track. I leaned my elbows on the table to make sure I didn't wake up Sam when I spoke, "What are we gonna to do?"

Dean took a deep breath, taking a long swig of his beer, but didn't respond. He focused on the bronze liquid, turning the bottle side to side to make it swish slightly. I waited as patiently as I could, but my desire to know what he was thanking caused me to bounce my foot up and down, making the wood floor underneath me creak slightly.

"What we've been doing," Dean said softly, looking me in the eyes, his eyes turning a darker shade of green, "What else can we do?"

"I don't know," I admitted. I leaning back in my chair and rubbing my eyes, careful not to smear my mascara, "I just feel like we should be doing something. I don't just want to sit here on my ass waiting for this demon to show up. We are at war, why don't we bring it to their door step?"

"Oh, yeah that's a great idea," Dean remarked sarcastically, waving his hand in a grand motion, "How do you suggest we do that?"

I crossed my arms over my chest, clenching and unclenching my jaw. He was right of course, but that didn't mean I had to admit it. I chewed on my lip trying to think of anything that we could do, but there was nothing, we knew nothing. We could catch a demon and interrogate it, get it to spill all its deep dark secrets.

"Can I ask you a question?" Dean said, pulling me from my train of thought. He rested one elbow on the table and giving me a serious look.

"Mmhm," I said, taking the first sip of my beer just to give me something to do.

"Why do you do this?" Dean asked, "Why hunt? You left the Circle, you could have done anything, and yet you do this."

I pressed my lips together, trying to think do the best way to describe it, "I don't know. I tried the average Jane life for awhile, when I was first staying with Claire. And for a while I could do the shopping and the nails, even thought of getting a real job, but after awhile I started feeling restless. Like a part of me was missing. I got wind of a haunting in Idaho and it just clicked for me. I enjoy the rush of saving someone's life, of knowing that someone, somewhere, is alive 'cos of me."

"You could die," Dean said.

"Every one dies, Dean. If I could save an innocent life, the sacrifice I make are worth it," I said. I looked down at my hands, focusing on the chipped black finger nail polish and picked at it.

"You're incredibly naive," Dean retorted.

"And you're an incredible jackass," I shot back, my voice rising. I caught myself, checking to make sure I hadn't woken Sam, then dropped my voice to a low hiss, "Don't take your own issues about the job out on me."

"So you're going to keep hunting, trying to save the world?" Dean asked.

"No, Dean, that's way too much responsibility," I said, "I prefer to focus on the people during a case."

"This coming from the girl who left the Circle because they weren't saving everyone," Dean muttered.

"I left the Circle 'cos they weren't interested in saving _any_ lives," I corrected softly, focusing hard and the here and now so I didn't have to remember, "They sacrificed people, just to stop whatever big bad crawled out of the ooze that day."

"True, what happened that made you leave the Circle?" Dean asked, his voice turning soft.

I chewed on my bottom lip, unable to force myself to keep eye contact. I stood up and walked around the room, moving random stuff to keep my hands busy before turning back to Dean. I thought about the mission with the Circle, the one that made me decided I had to leave. I wasn't really looking to relive it. I sat down on the empty bed facing Dean, tucking a strand of my hair behind me ear. Dean watched me patiently, waiting to see if I would tell him.

"They sent someone very important to me on a mission before he was ready," I said slowly, not coming up with a good enough reason to lie. I picked at a lose string on the comforter, no long able to look at Dean, "I went after him, but it was too late."

Dean stood up and crossed the room in three long strides and sat down a foot away from me. For a moment we just sat there. I set my eyes on the awful maroon carpet, forcing myself to talk deep breaths.

Dean let out a long, slow breath, "I'm sorry."

I shrugged of his apology, forcing myself to smile up at him, "It was a long time ago."

Dean reached up and slid his fingertips across my check, brushing my hair to the back of my head where his hand stayed, entangled in the strands. His green eyes growing impossible dark as the bore into mine. My heart pounded hard enough inside my chest I was sure my rib cage would crack. I waited, twisting my fingers together, praying that he would lean the few inches it would take to press his lips to mine. My skin tingled with the anticipation of his touch.

Something shifted in Dean's eyes, a sudden distance fell across his features. He started to lean away, his hand slipping from my hair. An ache dug its way into my chest; even though he had made no move to stand I was terrified he would. I grabbed Dean by the shoulder and yanked him backward. The movement caught Dean off and he laid flat on his back, with his feet still on the ground. I swung my leg over Dean's body so that I was straddling his hips, laying my palms flat on his shoulders to keep him pinned.

"If you wanted to be on top, you could have just asked," Dean said, his lips twitching up with a seductive grin.

I leaned against chest, using my elbows to support my weight as the dug into the mattress on other side of his head, his body fitting perfectly against mine. I ran my fingers through his hair, brushing my lips against his, snagging his bottom lip in my teeth and tugging on it playfully. Dean's eyes darkened with desire. He lifted his hands to my face and pushed my hair back again, his eyes skimming over every inch of me. The intensity of his eyes sending shivers across my body, snagging something deep within my soul.

For a moment we just gazed at each other. I traced my fingers over his face, trying to commit every angle to memory. I memorize the shades of greens of his eyes, and the specks of gold and browns around the iris. My heartbeat slowed as I took him in, an odd calm feeling washing over me. Dean pulled me down, his lips brushing against mine like butterfly kisses. The whole room froze and faded to black, locking us in a world all our own.

Dean tasted of Corona, his skin smelt of soap and leather. I breathed him in, unable to get enough of him. Though his touch was gentle, his hands trailed paths of fire across my body everywhere they touched. I pressed myself as close to him as physically possible with clothes on, trailing soft kisses across his stubbled jaw line, and down his neck, sucking and nibbling the skin there.

A low growl rumbled from the back of Dean's throat, a sound that caused my heartbeat to quicken. He's free arm wrapped around me waist, strong and unyielding. Holding me in place, Dean rolled, moving his hand to my hip so his weight was pinning me against the mattress. I wrapped my legs around his waist, tangling us together. A silent wish crossed my mind that we would never have to untangle from each other again.

Dean tilted my head up, nibbling my collarbone before nipping at my shoulder. I bit down on my lip to keep from gasping aloud, digging my nails into his back. Dean buried his head into the nook of my neck to stiffen his groan. I wanted more of him, and could feel how much he wanted me. The thought excited me. I had never wanted to be one with someone more than I did in that moment.

I wrapped my hand under his chin and pulled his head up so I could crush my lips against his, deepening the kiss. Our tongues intertwined, our bodies pressed hard together. I gritted my teeth as he moved against me, calling out a primal desire deep within my gut. I bunched up the fabric of his shirt, pulling it up his back as much as I could, letting every part of my body melt into him. My hands found the buckle of his belt, fumbling slightly as I unhooked it. The squeak of the other bad had my I freezing just as I begun pulling the belt free of Dean's pant loops.

Panting, Dean turned his heads in Sam's direction. I could hear his soft snoring, a reminder that we weren't alone. I could feel my face turning red at my stupidity for forgetting that Sam was just a few feet away, but every time Dean's lips found mine my brain stopped working. The thought that Sam could have been sitting up in bed and watching us the whole time made me almost want to laugh from embarrassment. I groaned inwardly, tugging Dean's shirt back down, and dropping my feet to the floor.

"I can't do this," I whispered.

Dean looked from Sam then back to me, "It's a little weird."

I covered my mouth to keep from giggling. When I was sure I wasn't going to laugh out loud I lowered my hand, "Just a little."

Dean rolled into a seated position in one smooth motion, allowing me to sit up myself. A goofy grin had stretched across my lips and I blinked at the far wall, my body still abuzz from Dean's touched. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye to find him leering at me. My smile grew and I had to look before I threw myself at him again. If we were quite enough, it would be possible we could get away with it. After all he had barely stirred when we had been talking, but I still couldn't get the image of him catching us out of my head.

I scooted toward the top of the bed and leaned against the head board, tucking my feet underneath me. I started running my fingers through my hair to fix what I'm sure was a mess and ran my index fingers under my eyes, hoping that my makeup wasn't ruined. Next I moved to my dress, smoothing out the wrinkles as best I could. It was pointless; I'd need an iron to get it straight.

"You're such a girl," Dean whispered, watching me with a smirk. There was still a hint of lust in his emerald eyes.

"Excuse me?" I asked.

"You look beautiful, you don't have to fuss over it," Dean elaborated, motioning with his hand to indicate all of me, "You're not like most female hunters."

"Uh-huh," I muttered, pressing my lips together at his complement in an attempt to hide my giddiness, "Is that such a bad thing?"

"I don't think so," Dean said. He stood up and walked over to the table, snatching up his beer and taking a swig. He turned around and leaned against the table, continuing to watch me.

"Good," I said, smirking at him.

Looking at him, standing in the gloomy hotel room, the earlier topic refreshed itself in my mind. My giddiness faltered, allowing the stress and anger from before to bleed back in. I didn't want to ruin the perfect moment by remembering the real world just yet. Just for the night I wanted to pretend that there was no such thing as monsters and demon deals. I just wanted to have this moment, before it was gone.

I took a deep breath and changed the subject, "So, tell me about you're classic rock obsession."

Dean cocked a brow at me, "Why?"

"Because I want to know who I'm going to be stuck listening to _every single day_ ," I teased.

Dean scoffed. He walked around to the other side of the bed and sat next to me, "Well, kid, Led Zeppelin is probably my favorite band…"

Dean launched into massive detail about why Led Zeppelin was his favorite band, even telling me his favorite songs, and comparing other bands to them. Dean gave me disappointed looks every time I didn't know a band or the name of a song he was talking about. He talked about pie, shower pressure, and the places across the country that had the best bacon cheese burgers. I talked about Claire, books, and what I missed most about London. We had just started talking about the Impala, after I had informed him that I knew next to nothing about cars, when I felt myself start to drift.

I curled onto my side, placing my arm under my pillow for support with the crook of my elbow under my head. I felt completely contempt lying there beside him listening to his voice. It wasn't dull, despite my not really caring about the topic. I just liked watching his lips move, his gruff voice going on about car parts I had never even heard of. Once again Dean made the rest of the world vanish; all the stress and worry I had been feeling seemed to evaporate into thin air. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to fall asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

 **Now**

"Shhh."

I opened my eyes, blinking in a haze. Whatever I was dreaming evaporated with the grogginess of my awaking brain. I blinked hard, trying to figure out what was shushing me, but my brain wasn't working right. I tried to focus, fighting through the fog to remember where I was.

I was lying down, pressed against the solid form of a human body that kept me warm despite the coolness of the air around me. My blanket had fallen away from my shoulders lying somewhere down around my waist. The itchy sheet was tangled around my right leg and the other persons left leg, strapping them together like being caught in a net. If I had been more awake I probably would have tried to free them.

I lifted my head to see that I was sprawled across Dean's chest, my free leg draped over his waist, my arm over his chest. The morning drowsiness was replaced with momentary bliss, warming every inch of me more than any blanket could. I smiled happily into his bright green eyes feeling more at peace then I had in a long time.

"You were mumbling in your sleep," Dean informed me. His arm was wrapped around my waist, holding me against him and his fingers messaging the skin through the fabric of my dress.

"I do that," I mumbled.

I wasn't quite ready to wake up just yet, not quite ready to leave him. I lowered my head back against his shoulder, curling up against him. Dean tightened his arm around me, and in the safety of his embrace I fell back to sleep. I was briefly aware of the bed shifting as Dean pulled away from me. I reached out for him, but couldn't bring myself to open my eyes and I drifted off again.

"Hey," Dean's deep voice vibrated though me a moment later. The bed jostled with so much force that I shot up in bed with a sharp squeak, looking around franticly. Dean was standing at the end of the bed with his booted foot resting against the mattress, "You need to get up."

I narrowed my eyes at him, "You could have just said that, jackass!"

Dean shrugged, giving me the smallest hints of a smile, "This way was more fun. Sam's gone."

"What do you mean, Sam's gone?" I asked around a yawn.

I glanced in the direction of the other bed. The pillows were flat and tossed halfheartedly against the headboard, the blankets and sheet a pile at the end, the mattress held an indentation of a very tall man, a clear sign it had been used and the vacated. Another quick glance around conformed that Sam was nowhere else in the room.

"He's been gone for nearly an hour," Dean informed me. He picked up his and Sam's duffle bag, dropping them on the table where mine already sat.

"How do you know?" I asked, rubbing my eyes. I lowered my hands, grimacing at the black smudges of my makeup on my hands. I groaned internally, I probably looked like a clown. I didn't even want to think about what my hair looked like, "You just woke up."

"I've been up for almost an hour," Dean said, not bothering to even glance in my direction.

There was a new tension his shoulders that hadn't been there the night before, his whole demeanor withdrawn. I clenched and unclenched my jaw, wondering what he had been thinking about. It was probably just him being worried about Sam, but a deep part of my brain told me it was because of me, because of last night. I shook the thought away before it had time to take root.

"No, you just-" I trailed off, looking Dean up and down, noticing that he had changed clothes. My brain must have checked out after Dean had gotten out of the bed, still asleep and not realizing that time had passed. I scratched the back of my head and smiled at him, "An hour, huh? I wasn't snoring, right?"

"Nope," Dean said, finally glancing over his shoulder at me, "I already checked around here and the dinner down the street, but he wasn't there. There's a bar a few miles down the road, so I figured we'd check there next. Get your shoes."

Dean snatched up our bags and walked out of the hotel room, leaving the door wide open for me. Huffing out the air in my lungs, I slid out of the bed. I grabbed my jacket and shoes off the floor where I had discarded them sometime in the night. Not bothering to put them on, I trailed after Dean. At the door I did one last quick glance to make sure we hadn't forgotten anything, and then I closed the door behind me.

Outside, I took a moment to breath in the warm afternoon air. I closed my eyes and tilted my head to the clear blue sky, loving the feeling of the sun on my face. I could feel my lip curving into a smile and my body relaxed. Sudden goosebumps ran across my arms and up the back of my neck. My eyes flew open at the sudden sensation that I was being watched. I looked around for Dean.

I found him at the trunk of the Impala; it was popped open and he was putting in our bags, he wasn't focused on me. I scanned the area around to see if I could catch who it was. There were a few pedestrians walking past on the side walk, they were all too busy on their phones or with her friends to pay me any mind. There was a couple trying to wrangle in their three children into a car. None of them even so much as glanced in my direction. Ruby's voice trailed through my head, reminding me there was a hit on my head. I steeled myself, my muscles tightening and reading for a fight.

I waited only a few more seconds, but nothing happened. There were no spooky shadows, no cold chills, nothing. If someone was watching me, then they would just have to keep doing it. I walked to the passenger side and slipped into the seat, discarding my boots on the floor and tossing my jacket behind me. The trunk was shut with a slam, causing the car to bounce slightly. A few seconds later Dean got into the car beside me, starting the car with a rumble. He backed up, placing his hand noticeably close to my shoulder as he turned around to watch behind him, and we were off toward the bar.

Dean clicked on the radio and the car was filled with a classic rock song. I listened to the words, a smile on my face as I watched Dean drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel, mouthing the words to the song and nodding his head to the beat.

"Who is this?" I asked, running my fingers through my hair to brush out the knots.

Dean's eyes shot to me in disbelief, pointing at the radio with his finger as he spoke, "This is Bob Seger's _Travelin' Man_. He's one of the greatest classic rock singers _ever_!"

I pressed my lips together and nodded, swallowing down my laugh before saying, "I bet he is."

I twisted my hair up into a messy bun on the top of my head to hide what I'm sure was a disaster. I used the movement to glance behind us to see if there were any suspicious cars trailing behind us. There was a cherry red ford behind us, but the man in the cap didn't look suspicious. Of course if he was a demon I wouldn't have been able to tell. If anyone was fallowing us, they were doing a really good job of hiding. I turned back around.

Dean must have caught the amusement in my voice because I earned a glare from him, "You honestly never heard of him?"

"I'm sure I have and I just don't know it," I smiled. Sitting up a little, I pulled down the visor to look at my makeup. It wasn't all bad, just the eyeliner had smudged giving me a faded raccoon look. I wiped at the makeup, "Not all of us where raised on classic rock, remember?"

"What were you raised on, then?" Dean muttered, clearly not approving, "Country and banjo music?"

"Classic music, mostly," I said, counting off on my fingers, "Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, that sorta thing."

"Next you're gonna tell me you play the piano," Dean mumbled.

I nodded, smirking at him as I smacked up the visor when my face was more presentable and started to pull my boots on, tying them to just the right amount of snugness, "And the violin."

Dean made a ticking sound with his tongue, looking impressed, "Well, good for you. I can play a little piano myself. A bit of guitar, too."

"Well, good for you," I smiled, propping my feet up on the dashboard.

"Feet," Dean reached over and whacking my legs.

I dropped my feet back to the floor. Dean glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes, a small smile on his lips. He licked his lips and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. My heart pounded just a little hard at the glint of lust in his eyes. He turned his head, focusing his eyes back on the road. I did the same, but it was hard not to glance at him.

"Halestorm," I said.

"What?" Dean asked, looking at me with a puzzled look.

"That's my favorite band," I told him, "Although I do enjoy a good classic piano, and I like a tone of different genres, but I'm more into modern rock."

"Crap rock," Dean muttered, pulling into a parking spot and switching of the Impala.

I looked out the windshield to see were where already at the bar. The car ride had not nearly been long enough. I wanted to find Sam, but not that quick. Dean was out of the car in a blink, eager to get inside and find his brother. I followed suit, trying not to pout as I headed for the bar. Dean held open the door and I stepped inside.

The bar had a nice rustic interior, with wood walls and flooring, wood tables, and a long wood bar. It was fairly busy for the time of day, the soft sound of voices and country music playing from a jukebox. There were a couple of people scattered throughout drinking, an older gent reading a paper, and a group of people playing pool and munching on nachos. My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since the day before. I licked my lips, my mouth watering and turned away, spotting Sam was sitting at the bar.

I felt Dean breathed a sigh of relief from behind me, the air ruffling the loose hairs on the back of my neck, glad to see his brother's lanky form hunched over a small glass filled with bronze liquor. Dean placed his hand on my shoulder to gently push me to the side so he could make a beeline for his brother. I hung back as a man holding a beer cut in front of me. His golden-brown eyes looked me up and down as he passed with a crocked smile on his face. I smiled back at him, waving my fingers at him before walking over to the Winchesters.

"There you are," Dean said, smacking Sam on the shoulder, patting it slightly.

I walked to the other side of Sam, sliding onto the barstool beside him. He turned his head to acknowledge me and smiling sweetly at him. He looked at me with half leaded eyes, sighed, then turned back to his drink.

Dean leaned against the bar, catching his brother's attention, "What are you doing?"

Sam shrugged, like it should be obvious. His head curved in my direction, when I didn't say anything, he turned back to his brother, "I'm having a drink."

"It's two in the afternoon," Dean pointed out, grabbing hold of Sam's drink and sniffing. He made a face and set it back down on the bar, "Drinking whiskey?"

"I drink all the time," Sam said, lifting his shoulders indifferently.

"No, you don't," Dean argued. From what I had seen, Dean was right. I'd seen Dean drink any alcohol you put in front of him, Sam hadn't had more than a few beers.

"What's the big deal?" Sam said looking around the bar, indicating the whole with a wave of his hand, "You get sloppy in bars. You hit on chicks all the time. Why can't I?"

I pretended not to have felt the ping of jealousy that bubbled up in my chest, fixing my gaze on Dean. An unwanted image of a long line of women standing before him washed through my head. He looked around at the female population that inhabited the bar. There was a woman in black biker gear chatting it up with a gent a few seats down the bar, and the waitress was a bit curvy in places but still cute, along with a few others. Sam could have done worse. Eventually Dean's eyes came round to me. I raised my eye brows at him, a silent dare for him to say something. He turned back to Sam with a smirk.

"Aside from present company," Dean said, nodding his head faintly to me, "It's kind of slim pickings around here."

Sam didn't seem to care. It wasn't the point he was trying to make, just covering up the truth. There was pain in Sam's eyes, something that he was drinking to forget.

"What's going on, Sammy?" I asked, placing my hand on his shoulder for support.

"It's Sam," Sam scoffed slightly, but there was no real meaning behind his words. He'd said it out of reflex. Sam shook his head, his face falling into defeated. He placed his hand on mine, squeezing it gently. He gave me a sad smile, "I tried."

"To do what?" Dean asked.

His eyes shot from his brother, to me, to our hands, then back again. I kept my hand where it was, even after Sam had let it go. I needed Sam to know that I was here for him, that he wasn't alone. I would be there to help him fight. I'd stand beside him as long as I could, just as I had promised Dean. It was a promise I intended to keep, even if it mad Dean uncomfortable. If I lived long enough to do it, I had my own demons to contend with, after all. I glanced around to see if there were any suspicious people hanging around, but all strangers seemed sketchy to me.

"To save you," Sam said softly, bring my attention back to him. His eyes where turning red. If it was from the alcohol or unshed tears threatening to break through his resolve, I couldn't tell.

I felt for Sam, I really did. Losing your family could destroy you if you let it. If it wasn't a constant thing on Dean's mind then he was mental. It did seem to be a constant thing on Sam's mind however. And it should have been on mine as well. Here I was being all flirty with Dean and in a few short months he would go to Hell.

When I was around him, it was easy to forget that. He was so alive. He was here, now, solid and real. But if I was going to win my own battle, I couldn't allow myself to get distracted and attached. I needed to stop drooling over this boy, stop pretending that things might still work out. It killed me a bit, but mine and Deans relationship would have to be strictly business from here on out. Lest losing him destroyed me, too.

Dean took a seat and turned to call out his order to the bartender, "Could I get a whiskey, double, neat."

"Sure thing, pal," The bartender said, grabbing a glass from behind the counter and poured the drink before eyeing me, "What about you, sweetheart?"

"I'm fine, thanks," I gave him a small smile before turning back to Sam. The bartender shrugged and went about his business.

"I'm serious, Dean," Sam said, his focus shifting from Dean to his alcohol once the bar tender had wondered off.

"No, you're drunk," Dean informed him, downing his drink in one gulp.

"I mean where you're going, what you're going to become," Sam said, his face turning hard. He shook his head and scoffed.

"Become?" I asked before thinking about how I didn't think I wanted to know the answer.

"A demon," Sam informed me, looking at me with an incredible amount of pain in his eyes, "When he goes to Hell, it will turn him into a demon."

I clenched my jaw and I was glad I was sitting down, or I might have fallen over. It made since, demons were human souls Lucifer had tortured and twisted into something dark and horrible. I hadn't really thought about it much, never really cared. Hell was a place for evil people, murders and child molesters; they got what was coming to them. But Dean? He deserved better. Anyone who sacrificed their life to saving people deserved better than that.

If Dean became a demon, one day he might even return, possessing the body of some poor chap. Maybe even in my lifetime. I wondered if he would remember us, if he'd hunt us down. Or would he become a crossroads demon, tricking people into selling the souls for petty little things like money or talent. Would he care that he was damning people, just like he had been damned?

"I can't stop it," Sam said, ripping me from my reverie before turning back to Dean, "I'm starting to think maybe even Ruby can't stop it. But really, the thing is no one can save you."

"That's what I've been telling you," Dean said, completely shaking off any emotional attachment. He made it look as easy as changing ones shirt.

"No, that's not what I mean," Sam said, looking disgruntled, "I mean, no one can save you because you don't wanna be saved. I mean, how can you care so little about yourself?" Sam looked Dean dead in the eye, completely serious when he asked the next question, "What's wrong with you?"

Dean and Sam stared at each other for a long moment, Dean's mouth hanging open. The question even shocked me, and is looked back and forth between the two brothers. Dean glanced at me, shifting in his chair and looking uncomfortable. I wondered if he even knew the answer. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Dean looked like he was seriously trying to think of what was really wrong with him, or at lease trying to come up with a good enough lie. Dean took a deep breath, and I found myself leaning closer in anticipation of his answer, but his cell ringed, sparing him from having to answer.

"Hello?" Dean asked with a little too much force, "Yes, this is Mr. Sniderson… What?" Dean paused to look at Sam, his face full of concern, "Where?"

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Dean didn't respond. He snapped his phone shut and motioned for us to fallow him, tossing a couple twenties on the counter before leaving the bar. He was in the Impala and had the car started before he had even shut the door. Sam slid into the front seat, and I got into the back. I scooted into the middle and sat at the edge of the seat so I could lean in between the two brothers to be a part of the conversation.

"It's Bobby," Dean said as we sped out of town, "He's in a hospital in Pittsburgh."

"What?" Sam demanded, "What happened?"

"I don't know," Dean said with a shrug, "They said he was found in his hotel room, something about a coma. They need us there right away."

"Um, who's Bobby?" I asked carefully.

Sam glanced back at me, "Robert Singer, he's a hunter friend, been at it a long while. We've known him since we were kids." Sam turned back around to Dean, "What was Bobby doing in Pittsburgh?"

"Unless he was taking an extremely lame vacation…" Dean muttered, his voice trailing off.

"He must have been working a job, right?" Sam asked.

Dean clenched his jaw, pressing his foot harder on the gas. The Impala roared to life, speeding down the highway at lawfully speeds. The ride turned into a tense few hours, the boys worry nearly tangible enough to cut with a knife. I grabbed my jacket off the floor and draped it over my legs as I tucked my feet under me, staring straight at the road ahead. I stopped paying attention to what Sam and Dean where talking about, and at some point they had stopped talking altogether. We drove the rest of the way in silence.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

The hospital smelt like death and disinfectant, leaving a bitter taste in the back of my throat. I had never had any real dislike for hospitals, but nor did I like spending time there. Whatever hopes for health hung in the air was covered by a thicker shroud of misery when there was nothing that could be done to sustain life. The staff rushed around the hallways, always needing to be somewhere else. The patients meandered around, miserable and desperate for relief from their illness. Loved ones, crowding the waiting rooms doomed to countless hours of praying for a miracle.

I didn't fit anywhere. I was not staff or a patient or a loved one. I was just a stranger, standing near the far wall of a stranger's hospital room, feeling like I was somehow invading in on this private moment.

Things had been tense on the ride to Pittsburg, despite Sam trying to ease it by telling me everything I needed to know about their friend. Robert Singer was smart, in his fifties, and he knew pretty much everything when it came to the supernatural world. He seemed like an interesting man, and Sam seemed excited for me to meet him. He told me all kinds of crazy stories about him. Including rumors he himself didn't know where true or not.

When I had entered the room, and stood at the foot of his bed, looking down at his peaceful, bearded face, all I could think about was Claire. I couldn't help it. What if it had been me who had gotten the call? I glanced to the Winchesters; I could image how they were felling right now. There was no reason for this man to be in a coma. This was a case, this was supernatural, and I wanted to know what had caused it. I needed to know why, so I could stop it.

Dean's arms were crossed over his chest looking hard and closed off, his eyes fixed on Singer. I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes, his chest rising with shallow breaths. Sam had his puppy dog eyes locked into place and hands in his pockets and he shifted back and forth on his feet. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, like he wanted to say something but didn't know what it was. Both of them were looking at Singer with unease, looking at him with little clue what they were supposed to do. I wasn't sure what to do myself. I pulled out my phone out of my pocket and sent Claire a quick text to call me when she could before turning my attention back to Singer.

He laid tucked comfortably into the hospital bed, his head propped up on the pillow with his arms flat at his sides. His eyes were closed, his face relaxed. He looked rather peaceful; a sleeping beauty that just needed a good shaking to wake up, though reason told me that behind those closed eyes was something horrible. It wasn't surprising when the doctor had walked in to inform us he couldn't find what was wrong with him.

Singer's doctor has a young, probably mid-thirties, with hair that curled down around his ears. He'd walked into the room a few minutes after we had arrived, already wearing a sympathetic look on his face. Not the best first impression of hope as he introducing himself before grabbing Singer's medical chart from the end of his bed and walking around him to check his vitals. We waited while he did his job, until he stepped back to look down at his patient.

"So, what's the diagnosis?" Sam asked finally. I stared at the back of his hair as he turned it in the direction of the doctor.

"We've tested everything we can think to test," Doc informed us, his tone gentle, "He seems perfectly healthy."

"Except that he's comatose," Dean pointed out.

"Mr. Sniderson, you're his emergency contact," The doctor said sympathetically, looking to Dean for the answers, "Anything we should know? Any illnesses?"

"No, he never gets sick," Dean said, shaking his head. His voice was tight with anxiety that twisted my own chest. I had to resist walking over and sliding my hand into his, "I mean he's never even had a cold."

"Doctor, is there anything you can do?" Sam asked, needing something that closely resembled hope to clutch onto. This was usually where faith and prayer came into play, the moment the doctors told you the cold hard truth.

"Look," the doc said, looking us each in the eye with consideration, "I'm sorry, but we don't know what's causing it so we don't know how to treat it. He just went to sleep and didn't wake up."

"There weren't any marks?" I asked before I could stop myself. I earned an apprehensive look from the doctor, even Sam and Dean turned their attention to me. I cleared my throat, "Like needles or bug bites? Bruises or scratches?"

The doctor shook his head, his face more understanding, "There were no marks, and nothing in his blood."

I nodded, more to myself then to the doctor. At least we could rule out the obvious. I ran through all the sleep related creatures I could think of, but there weren't any who simply put their victims to sleep and didn't feed off them, or killed them. I turned back to Singer, considering this when my phone rang, cutting through the air like a banshee scream making me jump. Everyone turned to stare at me again.

"Oops, I'm sorry," I said, pulling out my phone from my jacket pocket and flipping it open to silence the ringing. I moved to the door, "I'll just take this in the hall."

I left the hospital room, walking several steps down the hall before placing the phone against my ear. I wasn't able to get a hello in when Claire's voice gushed into the phone, "True, ohmigod, I am so sorry I'm calling you so late!"

"It's like nine in the morning," I told her around a sigh of relief. I pulled my phone away long enough to glance at the clock to conform the time, "It's still pretty early."

"I mean, I'm sorry I didn't _call_ you earlier," Claire emphasized. I could hear the smile in her voice as and it made me smile. I could picture her bouncing on the balls of her feet as she tried to contain her giddiness, "I'm such a horrible friend."

"Why would you call me earlier?" I asked, turning my head to peak into the hospital room to see if the men were still talking. They were too far in the room to see form my position, and I was too far away to hear what they were saying.

"You're kidding right?" Claire asked, pausing to give me time to respond. When I remained quite she gave me an exasperated sigh, "It's January sixth. I thought that's why you wanted me to call."

"Oh, shit," I could have laughed as I sagged against the wall, "I'd completely forgotten. I just wanted to check in."

"Oh, well, Happy birthday," Claire sang into the phone, "I was going to call you earlier, like at midnight, but I fell asleep, and then woke up late 'cause I tried to stay up. So when I got to work I was super busy playing catch up, but I'm on break now so I could call you. I can't talk long, though."

"Don't even sweat it," I told Claire when she finally stopped talking long enough to take a breath, "I think I just got a case."

"A case on your birthday?" Claire pouted. This time she didn't give me time to answer, her voice growing more dramatic with each word, "You are supposed to have fun! Celebrate the day you came into this world!"

"This is fun," I told her, or at least interesting, "Seems like it's going to be a tough one. This one's personal."

"Personal for you?" Claire asked, her tone serious now, "What happened?"

"A friend of the Winchesters," I filled her in on everything that I knew.

"Wow," Claire said quietly, "How are the holding up?"

"Good, for the most part," I said, "It's tense."

"I bet," Claire sighed, "How did the react when you told them about what Echo said?"

"Dean handled it well," I said, rubbing the bridge of my nose in annoyance with myself, "I forgot to fill Sam in. He was sleeping when I got there."

"Oh, so it was just you and Dean then?" Claire asked, her voice hitting at dirty secrets she was sure Dean and I had to have shared.

I licked my lips, "We made out."

Claire squealed into the phone, "Was it amazing? I bet it was amazing!"

I would have loved to jump up and down and squeal right along with her, but the conversation in the bar weighed me down. My whole mood dropped, released with the depressed remembrance that Dean was dying. The hospital grew a bit smaller, more suffocating, and I wanted to get out of there. I pushed away from the wall, taking a few steps back toward Singer's room.

"Thanks, doc," I heard Dean say from the room. His voice brought air back into my lungs and blew out the breath I hadn't realized I had been holding. A few seconds later he and Sam came out, heading toward me.

"Babe, I gotta go," I told Claire, cutting off whatever she had been talking about, "I'll call you later."

"Okay, just be careful!" Claire ordered, not minding my outburst, before making a kissy sound through the phone and hanging up.

"Claire?" Dean asked as I fell into step beside them as they passed.

"Yeah," I said, mildly surprised, "How did you know?"

"She's the only one you call Babe," Dean said nonchalantly.

My brows pulled together, my surprise growing. Now that he mentioned it, Claire was the only one I called that. He had noticed it when even I hadn't. I slid my phone back into my pocket. Dean shrugged, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. I looked at Sam who did the same thing. I guess it was noticeable to everyone but me.

Not sure what to say, I asked, "What are we going to do? About Singer?"

"He had to be working a job," Sam conformed, running his hand over the top of his head and pushing back his hair, "We should check out his hotel. See if we can figure out what happened."

"This does seem like a case," I agreed with a nod of my head.

"Have you ever heard anything like this?" Dean asked, glancing in my direction.

"I've never heard of anything that puts people in comas and just bails," I told them, if they did this then they'd be back to finish the job, "There are plenty of dream eaters from around the world, but I doubt it was any of them. No marks."

"Great," Dean said, pursing his lips in frustration.

Dean got the address of the hotel Singer was staying at and the key from his personal belongings, so we piled back into the Impala and headed out. As we searched for the hotel I took this time to fill Sam in on what I had learned from Echo. He reacted a little more concerned the Dean had, asking me to go over everything twice so he understood everything. He was still asking questions when Dean pulled to a stop in front of Singer's hotel room.

"So you think your demon was in league with Azazel?" Sam asked as we filled out of the Impala.

"I don't know," I admitted solemnly, "But it would explain why it hasn't come after me, if it's too busy fighting in the war."

We reached the hotel room and Sam unlocked it, turned the knob and swinging it open. We walked in and Sam said, "This might actually be a good thing."

"How?" I asked, stopping in the middle of the room to look back at Sam.

"Well," Sam paused to face me, "If the demon is busy then you're safe."

"Except Ruby said that there was a hit on her head," Dean muttered as he shut the door.

"You spoke to Ruby?" Sam asked, his brows pulling together as he faced his brother.

"You think there'd be some sort of sign or something, you know?" Dean said motioning to the room, changing the subject, "Research, news clippings. Or a friggin' pizza box or a beer can."

He was right, the room was damn near squeaky clean. Not surprising for an older gentleman, but definitely different for two boys in their twenties. Sam gave his brother a look, clearly stating this conversation wasn't over, then he turned and searched for clues. Since Dean was checking the night stand and Sam was checking the desk that was pressed against the far wall, I walked over to the fridge and pulled open the door. It was empty except for a few bottles of beer and a to-go box. I pulled out the box and popped it open, examining the contents. It was half Kung Pao chicken and pork fried rice, all jumbled together in a mess. I put the box back and closed the fridge, moving on to the cabinets.

"How about this?" Sam asked, catching our attention.

I glanced over to find him standing in front of the closet. He had clicked on the light, pushing the clothes out of the way. I walked over and stood beside him, looking at the well laid out arraignment of plant pictures, maps, and news paper articles. Every detail carefully thought out and arranged to complete a successful hunt, or at least that was what I was hoping. To me it looked like organized chaos.

"Good old Bobby, always covering up his tracks," Dean said thoughtfully.

"You make heads or tails of any of this?" Sam asked, directing the question to Dean, just as lost as I was.

"Bobby did 'shrooms and now he's in drugged induce coma?" I offered, pulling a picture of a mushroom off the wall and examining it closer. It looked familiar, but I couldn't place where I had seen it before.

"I don't think he's the time," Dean said appearing behind me. He reached around me and grabbed another printout off the wall and read what it said aloud, "Silene capensis, which, of course, means absolutely nothing to me."

"It's a plant," I said, reaching up and turning Dean's hand so that I could look at the print out. His skin was warm against my touch and I quickly dropped my hand. "It's more commonly known as African Dream Root. Shaman and medicine men us it for dreamwalking."

"Dreamwalking?" Dean and Sam echoed, their eyes meeting mine.

"Yeah," I continued, "For centuries. They use it for entering another person's dreams, I think. It's quite a trip, or so I've been told."

"You think?" Dean asked, skeptical.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes at him, "I failed herbology. At least I know what it is."

"You… took herbology?" Sam asked, his voice a mix of interest and surprise.

I nodded and shrugged indifferently, "Herbology, Weapons and Tactics, Monster 101..."

"Not the traditional schooling then?" Sam said with a grin on his face.

"You could say that," I said, returning his smile, "Learning algebra isn't really necessary for killing bad things."

"Right, but what does African Dream root have to do with Bobby?" Dean asked, getting us back on point.

"I don't know," I said, turning back to the papers on the wall, "Maybe he tried using it?"

"We'll have to retrace his steps," Dean muttered, skimming over the papers as well.

"Here, obit," Sam said, taking the article off the wall and skimming it, "Dr. Walter Gregg, sixty-four, university neurologist."

"How'd he bite it?" Dean asked.

"Um, actually, they don't know," Sam said, "They say he just went to sleep and didn't wake up."

Dean snatched the article from his brother, "That sound familiar to you?"

"Just a bit," I mumbled, leaning forward to read the article along with Dean.

"All right," Sam said, going into detective mode, "So let's say Bobby was looking into the doc's death. Hunting after something-"

"Someone," I interjected.

"That started hunting him," Dean finished.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, placing his hands on his hips. He pressed his lips into a thin line, the vain in his temple throbbing as he drifted deep into thought.

"See if you can make heads or tails of this," Dean told Sam, waving his hand at the papers before walking away from the closet.

"What are you gonna do?" Sam asked, looking after his brother.

"True and I are going to look into the good doctor," Dean said, turning to me, "If you're up for it."

"Oh, I'm up for it," I said, crossing my arms, "Why?"

"Because, sweetheart, you're about to become an assistant to the FBI," Dean said, heading toward the door, "I'll get your badge."

"My badge?" I called after him, but he was already out the door. I glanced up a Sam who shrugged, clearly knowing just as much as I did. I turned on my heels and hurried after Dean, catching up with him, "As in you already have one?"

Dean didn't respond as we rounded the Impala. He popped it open and lifted the secret compartment to reveal the array of weapons he kept tucked in there. It was an impressive collection, and I found myself taking stock in case I ever had needed to dig around in there in an emergency. Dean grabbed a cheap little burgundy colored box and flipped it open. I peaked in to see a stock pile of different ID's and badges, mostly with Sam and Dean's faces on them. Dean grabbed a small rubber band bound stack and dropped the box down. He unwrapped the stack to reveal a few more badges. He handed a closed, black slip to me.

I flipped it open, it looked pretty damn good. It said I was a consultant for the FBI, I read the name he had given me aloud, "Christy Dennis?"

"Chris Dennis is the lead singer of Pink Floyd," Dean informed me.

I took the stack of badges he had made for me and looked through them. There was one for the health department, a few more consultant badges with other agencies, and a reporter's badge. They all had female names, that where no doubt more classic rock shout outs. Heat rose in my checks, a new emotion bubbled in my chest taking me by surprise. I was confused about why he would go through all the trouble.

"You already had badges printed up for me?" I asked, not sure what else to say.

Dean cleared his throat, turning his attention back to the box to pull out his own badge, "I figured if we were going to be working together it would be easier if you had your own."

"Why a consultant, though?" I asked.

Dean lowered the secret door and grabbed my duffle, sliding it across to me. He reached into one of his own bags and started digging out his suit, "It didn't require a picture. I figured the first place we'd check is Dr. Gregg's office first."

I wasn't sure what to say, I just stood there and watched him. Dean paused once he had everything he needed, gathering them in his arms and straightened. He placed his hand on the trunk, looking at me expectantly. I grabbed my duffle and Dean slammed the trunk shut. I looked into his green eyes, and he stared down at me. He was standing so close, all I had to do is reach out and touch him. My heart pounded, the blood pumping in my ears.

Dean had considered me being around enough that he had made me badges. He had but thought into them, thought into me. He had been the one trying to convince me that this life was too dangerous. Had he just asked me that to make sure that this was what I really wanted while all along he was planning on keeping me around? I never wanted to be kept more than I did in that moment. The desire to kiss him that washed over me was almost more then I could bear. I took an involuntary step forward.

"You should get ready," Dean told me softly. He looked as if he was fighting hard just to talk.

"Right, of course," I muttered, clearing my throat.

I pulled my duffle over my shoulder, forcing myself to walk back to Singer's hotel room, feeling Dean the short distance behind me the whole way. My whole body was buzzing, my brain telling me to keep walking while my heart demanded that I turned around. I walked in to the room, unable to even stop and give Sam an acknowledgment before I shut the bathroom door and locked it to keep myself in. I leaned against it, taking several steady breaths to calm my racing heart.

I tried to push the thoughts of him from my head as I showered, but the seeped through the cracks of my determination none the less. I dressed in a black pant suit with a loose grey blouse underneath. I brushed out my hair once it was dry and French braided it along the side of my head, just above my ear, and continued down so the tail of the braid hung over my shoulder. Next I did my makeup, keeping to the more neutral tones. I took one last look in the mirror. I had managed to look cute but professional. Satisfied with the results, I took a steadying breath and left the bathroom to find Dean had already changed into his own suit. It was the same suit he was wearing the day I had met him.

With a quick goodbye to Sam, Dean and I left. We drove in silence to a large square building near the local collage where the good doctor's office was located. We walked in together, with our shoulders squared and our heads head high and were greeted by a lady at the front desk who directed us to another woman by the name of Rebecca Sanders, who would be able to show us Gregg's office. We walked down the hallway, taking the elevator to the third floor where we met Sanders.

"Hi," She said, not sounding all that thrilled to have to speak with us. She shook each of our hands in turn, "The office is this way."

"So you're Dr. Gregg's lab assistant?" Dean asked Ms. Sanders as she led us down another hallway before stopping in front of a pair of doubled doors.

"That's right," She conformed, opening the door and stepping aside to let us take a look around.

The room smelt a bit musty with the after taste of stale coffee. The office was an organized mess with boxes of research on tables, chairs, and filing cabinets. I grabbed one of the notebooks with paper covered in messy hand writing I could hardly ready. I scanned through them, trying to decipher his short hand.

"Must have been hard, losing him so suddenly," I offered Sanders, dropping the notebook back into the box. I gave her a sympathetic look as Dean walked over to the doc's desk.

"Yeah, it did," Sanders said, wrapping her arms around herself. She looked uncomfortable, rather it was because of the topic or just having to be in the room, I couldn't tell, "But, still, going in your sleep, peaceful. That's what you wish for, right?"

"Yeah, right," Dean agreed, sounding like he was only half paying attention. But I caught the look of his eyes, and knew he was thinking about what Singer must be going through right now. He held up a book showing it to Sanders, "Dr. Gregg, uh, studied sleeping disorders? Dreams?"

"I don't understand," Sanders said suddenly, more irritated then confused, "I already went over this with the other detective."

"You spoke to another detective?" Dean asked, taken aback.

"Yes," Sanders said, "A very nice older man with a beard."

"We understand how difficult this must be for you, ma'am," I said reassuringly, "There's new evidence that requires us to do some fact checking, if you don't mind."

"Evidence?" Sanders asked, her voice raising a few notes. Her eyes widening with worry, "What new evidence?"

"We're not at liberty to say," Dean stumbled out, not able to think up a good enough lie to cover our asses.

"Thing is, I'm sort of busy," Sanders said, glancing between Dean and I. She was getting impatient, "Maybe we could do this later?"

"Sure," Dean said, nodding his head. There was a hint of annoyance in his manner as he faced her, standing a little straighter so he towered over her with authority, "Yeah, we'll just bring you down to the station later this afternoon. Get your statement on tape, do it all official-like."

"Look, okay," Sanders said, wringing her fingers together, "I didn't know about Dr. Gregg's experiments. Not until I was cleaning out his files."

"His experiments?" Dean inquired. Finally we were getting somewhere, "The ones he was conducting on sleeping?"

"No one knew, okay?" Sanders insisted, a desperateness filling her eyes, "Not the university, not anybody. I already spoke with a lawyer, he told me I can't be held liable for anything."

"That's not what this is about," I told her, "We're not accusing you of anything, but this is a serious situation. I know it's inconvenient, but the sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can get back to your life."

"Or this, uh, could go on you permanent record," Dean added.

Sanders scoffed, "I'm just a grad student. This was a gig to cover tuition."

"We understand. We just need copies of his research," I told her, "We need to make sure there isn't any stone uncovered so you can't be liable for anything."

"We'll need all of it," Dean informed her.

Sanders gave in and gave us everything we need, rushing us out of the office without trying to be too obvious about it. Once we were back into the Impala we divided the piles of notes and research, sitting there as we skimmed through the patient files, which were few and all in short hand. He was covering his tracks well.

"I think I got one," I said, handing Dean a file of a guy named Jeremy Frost, "He was the patient of Greggs the longest and he's still at the university."

"Great," Dean said, flipping the file closed and handing it back to me, "We'll talk to him first."

"He might be the only one to talk to," I said, reopening the file, "All the other's don't have names, just initials."

"Awesome," Dean said, rolling his eyes.

"Look, about last night," I said slowly as I pulled up Frost address on my phone.

"Yeah, it was a mistake," Dean said, his tone suddenly withdrawn and cold, something I was quickly learning was what he did when emotions came into play.

"Mistake?" I asked, japing at him. Rationally I knew it was a bad idea, but my heart was still crushed at his words, "You think last night was a mistake?"

"I thought that's what you were going to say!" Dean responded, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, "You don't think it was?"

"No!" I sighed, "I don't think it was a mistake, I just don't know what to think."

Dean nodded, his eyes focused on the road, "It was a mistake."

"I like you," I told him softly.

Dean was silent, keeping his head focused on the road, "That's why we can't."

"We could, but I guess that's part of the problem," I muttered.

"We can't," Dean repeated, "I got a one way ticket to hell stamped on my ass and there's no getting me out of it."

I narrowed my eyes at how casual he was sounding about this, "Do you really not care about what's going to happen to you?"

Dean didn't respond, and I didn't press the issue despite how badly I wanted to know. I read and re-read Frost thin file until I had it committed to memory. There wasn't much to remember, but it gave me something to do rather than focusing on Dean. Eventually he pulled to a stop as close to Frost's dorm building as we could. Dean grabbed his file and lead the way into the building and to Frost's door where he knocked.

A man opened the door, peering at us with suspicious eyes. He was dressed in raggedy clothes, his hair shaggy, and a light beard covered his round face. He was cute, in a Shaggy and Scooby kind of way, and the smell of cheap soap wafted off of him.

"I'm Agent Tango," Dean said, flashing his fake badge. "This is my associate-"

"Christy Dennis," I cut in, flashing my best smile and holding out my hand. Dean shot me a look, but didn't say anything.

A thin blush spread across the guys cheeks and he gave me a goofy smile, his suspicious look softening a bit. He flashed me a flustered grin and took my hand in his, but still looked at Dean with concern, "Nice to meet you. Look, I don't know what the RA said, but, uh, I was growing ferns."

"Take it easy, Phish, that's not why we're here," Dean chuckled, giving him a reassuring look as Frost let us into his room.

"Really?" He laughed, but still looked nervous, "Oh, thank God. Okay."

"We're here about Dr. Gregg's sleep study," I informed him, locking my hands behind me back.

"Yeah," Frost said. He stepped to the side, motioning for us to come into his apartment, "Dr. Gregg just died, right?"

"You were one of his test subjects?" Dean asked.

I glanced around the dorm room. It was small and messy, not a surprise, with only one bed in the far right hand corner. The left side of the room served as the closet/kitchen, with a wood clothes cabinet with a fridge beside it. Next to the fridge was an end table used as a counter for a microwave that was covered with dirty plates and hot pocket rappers. The floor was covered in clothes, I couldn't tell what was clean and what was dirty. It didn't stink exactly, but the guy could have put some effort into cleaning.

"I wasn't expecting company," He told me, catching me looking around.

"It's fine," I said, smiling dismissively.

"Anyway, yeah, I was a part of Dr. Gregg's sleep study," Frost said, walking over to fridge. He pulled out three beer bottles. He offered two to Dean and me, and then hesitated. "Unless you're on duty or whatever?"

"I guess I can make an exception," Dean said, taking his beer.

I politely waved the other one away, "I'll have a glass of water, though, if you don't mind?"

"Sure," Frost said, opening the fridge back up and witching the beer out a bottle of water which he handed to me.

We raised drinks to one another before taking a swig. Dean smacked his lips, enjoying the taste of the beer a little too much before saying, "Now, Dr. Gregg was testing treatments for a, uh, Charcot-Wilbrand syndrome? Which means…?"

"Um, I can't dream," Frost said a little reluctantly, "I had this bike accident when I was a kid and I banged my head pretty good and I haven't had a dream since. Till the study. You know, sort of."

"What were you taking?" I asked, "Some kind of pill?"

"It's this yellow tea," Frost said, his face twisting in disgusted at the thought, "It smelled awful, tasted worse."

"What did it do?" Dean inquired, his eyebrows perking up in interest.

"It made me pass right out," He said, taking another sip of beer, "And I had the most vivid super-intense dreams. Like a bad acid trip, you know?"

"Totally," Dean agreed, chuckling slightly. Realizing what he said, his eyes darted up, "I mean, no."

I turned my head to look at him, trying not to smile. He lifted his shoulders slightly, his expression part apologetic and part no regrets. I shook my head at him, turning my attention back to Frost. I had to chew on the inside of my cheek to keep myself focused, to stop me from looking at Dean.

"That was it," Frost went on, "I dropped out of the study right after that. I didn't like it. To tell you the truth, it kind of scared me."

"Well, thank you for your time," Dean said. He reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a business card, holding it out to Frost, "If you think of anything else, don't hesitate to give us a call."

"I will, agent," Frost said, leading us back to the door.

"Thanks for your time," I repeated, smiling at him as we walked out the door.

"So you thinking he was sipping dream root tea?" Dean asked as we made our way back to the Impala.

"Seems like it," I said, "Guess the doc figured it would help, and it did."

"We should check on Bobby," Dean said, pulling out his cell, "I'll have Sam met us there."

The drive back to the hospital felt like it took forever. The ride had been filled with awkward small talk about the case and music from the radio. I wanted to talk more about everything: about the intense desire I had to be with him, if he felt the same, what the real reason for him not caring about going to hell, if he felt like he deserved it. But I could see how distracted he was, and knew this wasn't the time or place for this conversation. I'd wait until Singer was conscious and the bad guy was stopped.

When we got back to the hospital room, I waited in the hallway while Dean was in Bobby's room. I didn't want to intrude, and I figured Dean could use some one on one time with his friend. I sat on the floor next to the door, debating rather or not I should call Claire. I wasn't really in the mood to answer a hundred questions about Dean. I hadn't been sitting there long, maybe fifteen minutes before Sam wondered down the hallway.

"How are you doing?" Sam asked, stopping in front of me and offering me his hand

"How am I doing?" I smiled at him and allowed Sam to pull me to my feet, "That's super sweet, Sammy, but I'm more concerned about you and Dean. This is your friend after all."

"I'm okay," Sam said, glancing past me so he could peer into the room. He flashed me a playful smile, "Don't call me Sammy."

Sam walked around me and into the room. I tagged along behind him, interlocking my fingers behind me. Sam stayed back slightly, looking at his brother with understanding and compassion. It was the same look I could feel on my own face. Sensing us behind him, Dean turned around to look at us.

"How is he?" Sam asked, walking over to the foot of the bed.

"No change," Dean said, standing to join his brother, "What'd you got?"

"Well, considering what you told me about the doc's experiments, and what True remembered about the dream root," Sam started, holding up a file of his own, "Bobby's wall is starting to make a lot more sense."

"How so?" Dean asked as Sam placed the file on the food table so we could get a good look at what he had found. I walked to the other side of Sam to take a look.

"This plant," Sam said, holding up a photo of the roots before motioning to me, "You were right about the Shamans."

"Let me guess, they dose up, busted out didgeridoos and start kicking around the hackey?" Dean joked.

"Not quite," Sam said, "According to the legend, they could enter another person's dreams, go poking around in their heads."

"I take it we believe the legends," Dean said, it wasn't a question but Sam nodded.

"When don't we?" Sam responded, "I looked into it a little more, and turns out dreamwalking is just the tip of the iceberg."

"How so?" I asked, vaguely feeling the familiarity of what he was talking about.

"This dream root is serious mojo," Sam explained, "You take enough of it, with enough practice you become a regular Freddy Krueger. You could control anything. You could turn bad dreams good, good dreams bad."

"And killing people in their sleep?" Dean said, his eyes looking at the sleeping form of Singer.

I suppressed a shiver, "That's horrifying. Krueger was the only thing that really freaked me out as a kid."

"The only thing?" Sam asked, scoffing with surprise, "Not the thing under your bed?"

"I don't like the idea of facing something I can't fight," I informed him.

"Right," Sam said, accepting my explanation, "So let's say this doc was testing this stuff on his patients, Tim Leary style."

Dean nodded, "Somebody gets pissed at him, decides to give him a dream visit, he goes night-night."

"What about Singer?" I asked, motioning to him with a tilt of my head, "Why would the killer go after him? Better yet, why is he still alive?"

"I don't know," Dean said honestly, "Maybe he figured out who the killer was, which is exactly what we have to do. Come on."

Sam gathered up his papers and we left Singer's hospital room quickly, making out way down the hallway. We walked in silence until we had moved into a less populated hallway, heading for the front doors.

"So how do we find our homicidal sandman?" Dean asked.

"Could be anyone," Sam said.

"Anyone of his patients," I offered, "They'd be the ones who've taken it the longest. They could have access to the dream root."

"Possible," Dean considered that a moment, "But the doc's research was pretty sketchy. I mean, we don't know how many subjects he had or who all of them were."

Sam scoffed, slowing his long legged strides to a stop. He looked lost in his own thoughts for a moment, staring off into the distance. Dean and I shared a look, but Sam didn't say anything.

"What?" Dean asked when it was clear Sam wasn't going to say what was on his mind.

"Any other case, we'd be calling Bobby and asking him for help right now," Sam said softly.

"Well, you can't call him," I said, "We got to figure out some other way."

"Or, maybe not," Dean said, talking hold of mine and Sam's arms and pulling us to a stop, "Sam's right."

"What?" Sam and I asked in unison.

"Let's go talk to him," Dean said, as if we could just go back to his room and do that.

"Oh, sure," Sam said sarcastically, "But I think we might find the conversation a bit one-sided."

Dean shook his head, "Not if we're tripping on some Dream Root."

"What?" Sam demanded.

"You can't be serious," I scoffed, hoping he was joking, "You wanna go dreamwalking inside that man's head?"

Dean shrugged, "Yeah, maybe we could help."

"We have no idea what's in there," Sam argued.

"How bad could it be?" Dean asked.

"Bad," Sam told him.

"We are talking about someone else's head," I added, "The place that holds our greatest fears and inner demons."

"Sam, it's Bobby," Dean stated, looking at his brother.

Sam was silent for a moment, "Yeah, you're right. One problem, we're fresh out of African Dream Root. So unless you know someone who can score some?"

They both looked at me expectantly. I rolled my eyes, "Don't look at me. I don't know where to get any."

We were all silent, considering what to do. The only think I could think of was to look online. Something like African dream root wasn't going to be at the local Wiccan store, so there was no way we could get our hands on something fast enough to save Singer if Kruger was really out to get him.

"Crap," Dean said, closing his eyes in annoyance.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Bela," Dean spat out the name as if it was poison on his tongue.

"Bela?" Sam said, confused. Then his eye widen as realization hit, "Crap."

"Bela?" I repeated, hitting to the boys to fill me in on what they were crapping about.

"She's a bitch," Dean informed me, his face feeling with hatred, "And one of these days I will shoot her."

Well at least she wasn't an ex, that was good news, but it still didn't answer who the hell she was. I opened my mouth to tell Dean that last bit, but Sam cut in.

"You're suggesting we ask her a favor?" Sam said, looking skeptical.

"I feel dirty thinking about it, but yeah," Dean said, before storming off.

Sam flashed me a fleeting look before taking off after his brother. I threw my hands into the air in frustration and ran after them. I didn't like being out of the loop, and I wanted to know why we needed this _bitch_ for help, and more importantly why Dean wanted to shoot her. Sam filled me in on the way, with Dean throwing in the occasional colorful commentary along the way. By the time we got to the hotel, I could understand why Dean would want her dead. I couldn't wait to meet her.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

I ran my tongue across my teeth looking at the pitiful selection of food at the gas station. It was on the corner of the street, less than a block from the hotel. After a _lot_ of convincing, Sam and Dean had allowed me to walk the two minutes it took to get here alone. We were all hungry, but the boys had wanted to get their hands on the doc's research and try and get a hold of Bela, nothing I couldn't spare ten minutes for. I should have spared twenty and gotten some real food.

I sighed, grabbing jerky for Dean and trail mix for Sam before moving to the next section. I grabbed sour candy for me, some chips, and a banana for Sam. It was a shitty meal, but it was food none the less. I swung by the drinks to grab some cokes and an all natural strawberry smoothie. I dropped the food on the counter, smiling at the clerk.

She was a pretty thing, probably about nineteen or twenty. Her long brown hair was pulled away from her face in a low pony tail and her arms and neck were covered in tattoos. She smiled back at me, a row of slightly crooked white teeth. I glanced at her black shirt, reading the name tag she wore to let everyone know her name was Addie.

"Did you find everything okay?" Addie asked as she started ringing up my food.

"Actually, do you have any pie?" I asked.

"Yeah, blueberry and cherry," She told me, pointing over to one of the isles.

"Thanks," I turned and walked in the direction she was pointing.

Just as Addie had said, I found two perfectly preserved slices of blueberry and cherry pie. I picked up both of them, examining them closely. I couldn't remember which Dean liked best. Cherry would have been a safe bet, but I was pretty sure it didn't really matter in the long run. I shrugged and brought them both to the counter. I walked back over to the refrigerated foods and grabbed to salads, one for Sam and one for me, and three plastic forks as I passed them.

Once I had bought the food, I walked back to the hotel. I pulled out one of the cokes and opened it, taking a long slow drink to savor the taste. I took my time with the walk, but still got back in less the five minutes. I walked into the hotel room without knocking, making a beeline for the kitchen.

Dean was sitting in a chair he had pulled over to the bed so he could prop his feet up as he looked over the doc's research. His head wiping up to make sure it was me, satisfied it wasn't a creeper he pressed his lips together before returning to his papers. I set my bags on the table and glanced at Sam who was happily snoozing with his head on the desk, a smile on his face.

"He must be having a pretty good dream," I said, digging the pies and jerky out of the bags. Balancing them in one hand, I grabbed a coke with the other and walked over to Dean. I held the food out to him.

"Yeah, he's been making some serious happy noises," Dean said taking the food, just as Sam moaned. I smiled, trying not to laugh. Dean set the food on his lap before holding up the pies. He looked up at me, "You remembered the pies?"

"Um, yeah," I said, looking down at him, "You asked for them."

"You bought two," Dean turned back to the pie.

"Again, yeah," I said, walking back to the bags in the kitchen, "I didn't know which one you wanted."

"Thanks," Dean said happily, popping open the blueberry pie.

I dug in to the bag for the plastic fork and turned to walk it back to Dean. I found he had already picked up the pie and was shoving it into his mouth, devouring half of it in one bite. Laughing, I tossed the fork at him. It hit him on the shoulder before bouncing off and dropping on the floor. Dean looked at the fork and then at me, insulted.

"Pig," I told him, leaning against the table.

Dean pursed his lips, putting the pie back into its container and reaching over to pick up the fork. He tore open the plastic wrap and shoved the fork into the pie, and begun eating it again. I dug out my chips and popped open the bag, reaching in and pulling out the delicious snack before taking a bite. Sam twitched at the noise, made a few more happy sounds. Dean and I looked at each other, grinning.

"Sam, wake up!" Dean yelled as I tried to stiffen my giggles.

Sam twitched and opened his eyes. He kept his head rested on his hands for a few moments as he gained his baring then he sat up, whipping at is face. Sam looked around him briefly, before turning away, not looking either of us in the eye. I smiled, eating another chip and watched Sam with amusement.

"Dude, you were out," Dean said, digging into the pie with his fork, "Making some serious happy noises. Who were you dreaming about?"

"What?" Sam demanded defensively, sending a quick glance in Dean's direction, "No one. Nothing."

"Come on, you can tell us," Dean mumbled around a mouthful of pie, "Angelina Jolie?"

"No," Sam snapped, shifting in his seat.

"Brad Pitt?" Dean offered.

I chocked on another fit of giggles, coughing as a chunk of chip wedged in my throat. I tossed the bag of chips down and chugged my coke, gasping for air. Dean shot me a satisfied look, pleased with how funny he had been.

"No!" Sam said, too fast. Taking the food I offered him with an almost guilty look, "No. It doesn't matter."

When I could breathe again, I grapping the food I had bought for Sam and took it over to him. He shifted away from me, turning his lower half under the desk, and gladly excepted the food with a nod of thanks. I smiled at him and returned to the table.

"Whatever," Dean went on, turning back to his papers and pie, "I called Bela."

"Bela?" Sam asked, his tone suddenly changing for defensive to forced nonchalant, "Yeah? What'd she, you know, say? She gonna help us?"

"Shockingly, no," Dean said, finishing off his blueberry pie and moving to the cherry, "Which puts us back to square one. I've been trying to decipher the doctor's notes. Unfortunately, he has worse handwriting then you do. You guys wanna help me with this stuff?"

"Yeah," Sam said, shifting in his chair, again putting his lower half under the desk. He caught my raised eye brow and stretched slightly and cleared his throat, "Just give me a sec."

I sat down at the table, pulling out my salad and opened it. Dean had left some of the research files on the table, so I scooted them toward me and flipped them open. I tried to understand the short hand, but without the decoder ring there was little I could do. I tossed the papers onto the table in frustration, ready to offer trying to buy some Dream Root online when there was a knock at the door.

Dean gathered up the papers on his lap and set them under his chair, getting to his feet and headed over to the door. He twisted the doorknob, opening it just enough to glance out at the guest. Turning back to the room he pulled it open with an annoyed look on his face.

"Bela," He said, as a woman strolled into the room, "As I live and breathe."

"You called me," Bela said in a British accent, "Remember?"

Bela was beautiful. With long legs and thick brown hair. She head a feel of regal arrogance around her, like she was badass and she knew it. She was dressed in a black jacket. She slid her purse of her should as she stopped in the center of the room. Bela looked around her with calculating eyes, taking in every detail. I stood up, crossing my arms over my chest and watcher he closely.

"I remember you turning me down," Dean said, closing the door with a flick of his wrist.

"Well, I'm just full of surprise," Bela told Dean with a sly smile, before turning to look at Sam and then me. "Oh, hello."

I walked toward her, offering her my hand, "I'm-"

"Arianna Tabitha Marie Van Helsing," Bela said. She made a clicking sound with her tongue as she looked me up and down like she was sizing up a dress she was tempted to buy, taking my hand in hers she gave me a sickly sweet smile, "So the rumors are true."

"Really, the whole name?" I asked, pulling my hand from hers. I resisted wiping my hand on my pant leg. There was something off about this girl, something I couldn't quite put my finger on, but it sent warning bells off in my head.

Bela flashed me a devilish grin, "You're a high ticket item right now, _True_. Your people went thought a lot of trouble convincing the world your bloodline died out twenty years ago. Do you have any idea what I could get for just an ounce of your blood?"

"Don't care," I said, lifting my chin up, "I'm not for sale."

"Seriously?" Dean asked, looking at me with his eyes brows raised with skepticism, "People would pay for your blood?"

"It's a stupid superstition," I shrugged, shooting him a look telling him to drop it.

"What is it?" Sam asked, his curiosity peaked. I turned my head to give him the same look I gave Dean. Sam swallowed, pursing his lips at me.

"According to the legends, the Van Helsing aren't human," Bela said, her smirk growing, "Not completely, anyway. There's something in their blood, something that makes them better than the rest of us."

"Is that true?" Sam asked.

"No, it's not true," I said, crossing my arms over my chest, "It's just a fairytale created by monsters to scare their wee ones before bed. We've been around for a long time. There are tons of rumors about my family. Just like there will be legends about the infamous Winchester boys."

"Probably," Bela sighed as if she was losing interest in the topic. She paused before lifting her round eyes to me, they flashed with a mischievous glint, "People will pay a lot of money for a superstition."

"I'm not for sale," I repeated.

"Care to rethink that?" Bela asked, tilting her head up with that arrogance of hers, "They sell blood on the black market claiming it's Van Helsing and it still goes for hundreds of dollars."

"And what makes you think they would believe you if you said it was the real deal?" I challenged.

"Please," Bela scoffed, sounding legitimately offended, "I have more creditability then that. If I say it's real, then it's real."

"You still can't have any," I told her.

"Fine, but I could have made you rich," Bela pouted, but her smirk stayed in place. Jokes on her, I'm already rich. Bela turned back to Dean and pulled a jar out of her purse and handed it to him, "I brought you your African Dream Root. Nasty stuff, and not easy to come by."

"Why the sudden change of heart?" Dean turned away from me and narrowed his eyes at her, taking the jaw with some mild hesitation.

Bela dropped her purse on top of the TV and begun untying her long black coat, "What? I can't do you a little favor every now and again?"

"No, you can't," Dean snapped, his distrust growing, "Come on, I wanna know what the strings are before you attach them."

"You said this was for Bobby Singer, right?" Bela asked. Dean nodded. "Well, I'm doing it for him, not you."

"Bobby?" Dean asked, his suspicion growing, "Why?"

"He saved my life once," Bela muttered, dropping her eyes so she didn't have to look at Dean, "In Flagstaff."

Dean and Sam shared a look, and Sam shrugged. Dean pursed his lips and turned his gaze to me. I'm not sure what look was on my face, but if it was anything like the annoyance I felt bubbling up for this chick, I'm sure Dean saw it. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, turning his gaze back to Bela. The doubt in his eyes was enough to make Bela sigh with defeat.

"I screwed up and he saved me, okay?" Bela said, not looking all that happy at having to admit it, "You satisfied?"

"Maybe," Dean said, holding the jar out to me.

I twisted the top of and pulled one of the long, dark roots out of the jar. I held it up in front of me to get a better look. It looked like the one in the picture, but I couldn't tell for sure. I dropped the root back into the jar and handed it to Sam. He examined the root and then nodded, satisfied that it was what we needed. Sam gave Dean a quick look, a silent conversation passing between them.

"So when do we go on this little magical mystery tour?" Bela asked, her mood pepping back up at her job well done.

"Oh, you're not going anywhere," Dean told her as he walked across the room and took the jar of roots form Sam. He opened the safe in the closet and stuck the dream root inside, spinning the dial mechanism to lock it, "I don't trust you enough to let you in my car, much less Bobby's head. No offense."

"None taken," Bela said softly, acting as if she wasn't offended. The conversation paused as Bela and Dean stared at each other, the silent _get the hell out_ Dean was shooting her way didn't have to be said, "It's two a.m. Where am I supposed to go?"

"Get a room," Dean told her, not giving a damn about what she did as long as she did it somewhere else, "They got the Magic Fingers, _Casa Erotica_ on pay-per-view. You'll love it."

"Fine," Bela said, anger twisting her pretty face as she snatched up her jacket and purse before marching from the room.

"Nice to seeing you… Bela," Sam said as he shot to his feet, but it was too late. Bela had already slammed the door behind her.

Dean looked at Sam's suspicious behavior, before he turned his focus to me, "People really want your blood?"

I sighed, "According to this particular legend Van Helsing's are the descendants of some higher deity, and that's why we are such great hunters. Some, like vampires, believe that we have some dormant gene that contains some hidden power, and if they drink it they will get it, but its total bullshit. I'm a great hunter because I work my ass off, not because of some fairytale. Besides, Abraham Van Helsing did extensive research on the subject and never found anything abnormal in our blood."

"Do you know what you ancestors where supposed to be?" Sam asked cautiously, "What deity?"

"Don't know, don't care," I said, "Make your dam tea."

Sam cleared his throat and walked to the kitchen to begin the process of brewing the tea. He left only once to gather a few more ingredients, leave me and Dean alone for nearly half an hour. We sat in an unbearable silence until he returned. Sam waited to put in the root at the last minute, and the stench of the root steeping in the boiling water filled up the room. After it was made, Sam poured it into cups, and I was surprised when he handed one to me. Picking up two other cups, he took them over to Dean who was sitting on the corner of the bed.

"Should we dim the lights and synch up _Wizard of Oz_ to _Dark Side of the Moon_?" Dean asked as Sam sat on the other bed, sniffing the tea. His face twisted in disgust at the smell of it, I didn't blame him.

"Why?" Sam asked, chuckling softly at his brother.

"What did you do during college?" Dean asked him. Sam shook his head and shrugged like the cute little nerd he was. Dean shook his head with disappointment and brought the tea to his lips.

"Wait, wait, wait," Sam said. He reached into the pocket of his shirt and pulled out a tiny envelope. Reaching into it, Sam pulled out a bit of the contents and held it out to Dean, putting it into his hand. "Can't forget this. Here"

"What the hell is that?" Dean asked, squinting at his hand.

"Bobby's hair," Sam told him, slightly revolted as he dropped some of the hairs into his own cup.

"We have to drink Bobby's hair?" Dean asked with the same look as Sam had.

"That's how you control whose dream you're entering," Sam explained, "Drink some of their- Some of their body."

"Well, guess the hair of the dog is better than other parts of the body," Dean said as both he dumped the hair into their cups. Sam offered me the envelope, but I shook my head.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked.

"As fun as it sounds to drink your Polyjuice potion, I don't think it's a good idea for me to do it," I told him, putting my tea down on the table, "I appreciate the trust you have in me, though."

"Why not?" Dean demanded.

"I don't know Bobby," I said, "Feels kind of invasive to go into his head. Its okay, I'll just watch over you guys while you sleep. Like a good little creeper."

"Alright," Dean said with a shrug. He held up his cup to Sam, "Bottoms up."

"Yeah," Sam said as their glasses clinked.

The boys chugged their tea, grunting with disgusted looks on their faces and swallowed it down. I couldn't help but smirk at them as they fell backwards onto the beds almost instantly. I walked over and pressed my fingers to their throats to make sure they were still breathing before taking their tea cups and placing them on the night stand. Setting into the chair Dean had vacated earlier, I begun to try and make since of Dr. Gregg's notes to pass the time.

An hour had passed before I gave up on the notes for good. I check on Sam and Dean again, before turning the chair toward the TV and turning it on. I flipped through the channels, not really catching anything of interest. Finally I just settled for _Doctor Sexy, M.D._ reruns. I was halfway through the corny first episode when Sam and Dean sat up so suddenly that I jumped.

"Oh, sweet baby Jesus," I said, turning to look at them. They painted heavily, looking at each other. I cleared my throat, "How'd it go?"

Bobby Singer was awake, that's how it went, or at least that was as much as I managed to get out of the boys as we rushed to the hospital. It was almost like a race to see who could get to his room the fastest. Dean was in the lead as we dodged around the obstacle course of people and medical carts as fast as we could. We skid into the room nearly colliding with Singer's doctor who was on his way out. We all paused in amazement, looking to the bed where Singer was sitting up, looking tired despite how much sleep he had gotten.

"I was just about to call you," the doctor gapped at us.

"Um, yeah, we, uh," Sam stumbled, his voice trailing off as he looked at Singer, to relived to articulate words.

"One of the nurses called," I interjected, "Said he was awake."

"Oh, okay," the doc said, "Good."

Dean and Sam hurried to Singer's side, looking down at him like they couldn't believe their eyes. Singer smiled up at them, reassuring them with a look. I watched them with a small smile on my lips, happy that they were able to have saved their friend. It was a good feeling, to save a life, now we had to stop another.

"So how is he?" I asked the doc, ushering him away from Singer.

"It's the weirdest thing," the doc said, "He just woke up."

"Oh, yeah, super weird," I said moving him toward the door, "But he's good though, right? All better?"

"Yes, everything's fine," The doctor said, protesting as I shoved him out of the room, "But I'd like to keep him overnight, just to be sure."

"I think we can arrange that," I said, half closing the door and leaning against it, "But we need some alone time with our uncle. You know, revel in the fact he's awake. Thanks."

I shut the door on the doctor and turned back to the others. All three men were staring at me with wide eyes. I shrugged and walked over Singer offering him my hand.

"Hi," I said with my best smile, "I'm True-"

"Van Helsing," Singer gapped at me, taking my hand is his with a firm hold, "The boys have told me a lot about you."

"Likewise, Mr. Singer," I said, chuckling slightly as I took my hand back, "I should really stop introducing myself."

"Call me Bobby," Bobby said, nodding at me, "So, we know what happened to me?"

"Frost," Sam said, "I saw him in your head."

"Then we should get him," I said, weirdly eager to go after my very own Kruger. Only mine was real and solid, someone with an ass I could kick.

"One of us should stay with Bobby," Sam said, looking from me to Dean before glancing at Bobby who was giving him a _what the fuck_ look. Sam's face instantly went into puppy dog mode, "No offense, Bobby, but you did just wake up from a coma."

"Yeah, well, doesn't mean I can't help," Bobby grumbled.

"Okay, Sam's right," Dean said, taking charge of the situation, "Sam why don't you go check out Frost's apartment and-"

"I go with him," I cut in, tugging at Sam's jacket sleeve, "Great plan, boss."

Dean pursed his lips but didn't say anything as he handed Sam the keys to the Impala. Sam nodded a quick goodbye to Bobby and an apologetic look at Dean as we left the room. I slid my arm through Sam's as we headed out of the hospital. He didn't say anything until we were outside, but there was a slight bounce to his step so I know he was in a good mood.

"Why are you so willing to go after Frost?"

I tucked a stray hair behind my ear and shrugged, "Why not? I'm more use out here than in there."

"Or you're just don't want to hang around Dean," Sam deducted brilliantly.

"Or I just wanted to spend time with you, Sammy," I looked up and smiled sweetly at him, "When was the last time we just talked?"

Sam chucked and shook his head, "He likes you, you know. I can see it in the way he looks at you."

"I like him, too," I said, my stomach feeling with butterflies at Sam's word, "But that doesn't change anything."

"I'm not saying it won't hurt," Sam said, steering me in the direction of the Impala, "But wouldn't it be better to spend what little time you could together?"

"It would be even better if he hadn't sold his soul," I said before realizing what I had just said. I paused and looked up at Sam. His focus was straight ahead. I stopped, forcing him to stop to, "I'm sorry, Sam, I didn't mean… I mean, I'm glad you're alive."

"I know," Sam said. He shook his head, causing a few stray hairs to fall into his eyes, "I'm just saying you guys deserve to have what every kind of happiness you can, while you can. After all you might be dead tomorrow."

"It's not like I haven't thought about it," I said, dropping my gaze to me feet as we walked, "In fact, I've thought about it a lot. But the thing is, with that little time, I have to live with it. I have to live with the fact that I had Dean and I lost him."

"We could still save him," Sam said softly.

I looked up at him, about to bring up about how just the other day he'd given up hope, but the look on his face stopped me. There was desperateness in his eyes; he needed to believe that we could save his brother. Even a part of me needed to believe, too. For both our sakes I didn't say the cold hard truth, because we already knew it.

"Yeah," I lied, "We can still save him."

The drive to Frost's dorm room had been uneventful. He hadn't opened the door when we knocked, so Sam picked the lock and walked in first before motioning to me the coast was clear. The room was still a mess, with clothes scattered around. The drawers were open and empty, and so was the closet. He'd cleared out in a hurry, leaving only his junk behind. We asked around, but no one knew where he had gone. Empty handed we returned to the hospital room to deliver the news.

"So, uh, stoner boy wasn't in his dorm," Sam said as we stood beside Bobby's bed, "My guess is he's long gone by now."

I tried not to feel too disappointed, and I could tell by the look on the others faces that they were. Everyone had wanted to get their hands on Frost for what he had put Bobby through. Getting revenge for Dr. Gregg was a close second.

"He's not much of a stoner," Bobby said, sounding like a father let down by his dropout son.

"No?" Dean asked, perplexed. I could see why, Frost definitely fit the bill of the stereotype stoner.

"No," Bobby repeated, "He's a full-on genius. Hundred-and-sixty IQ. Which is saying something, considering his dad took a baseball bat to his head." Bobby picked up a paper and held it out to Sam. Sam took it and held it up to look at it. I leaned toward him to look at the copy of an ID belonging to a Henry David Frost. "Here's Father of the Year. He died before Jeremy was ten."

"Looks like a real sweetheart," Sam said, tossing the paper back on the food table in front of Bobby.

"Injury gave him Charcot-Wilbrand, he hasn't dreamt since," Bobby said.

"Till he started dosing the dream drug," Dean added.

"Yep," Bobby conformed.

"How'd he know how to dig up your worst nightmare and throw it at you?" Dean asked gingerly, not wanting to upset the man.

"He was rooting around in my skull," Bobby said, not bothered at all with having to discuss what had gone on in his head, "God knows what he saw in there."

"How'd he get in there?" Sam asked the million dollar question, "Isn't he supposed to have your DNA or something?"

"Yeah," Bobby sighed, his disappointment now directed at himself, "Before I knew it was him, he offered me a beer. I drank it." My eyes widened and I turned to Dean, who was looking at me with the same look. Bobby sighed again, "Dumbest frigging thing."

"Oh, I don't know," Dean said, chuckling nervously, "It wasn't that dumb."

"Anyone could have done it," I added in, tossing my hair over my shoulder.

"Guys, you didn't," Sam said, exasperated and placing his hands on his hips.

"I was thirsty," Dean said.

"I had water," I offered in my defense, "Not a beer."

"Great," Sam snapped, "Now he can come after any one of you."

"We'll just have to find him first," Dean said before I could think of some sass to throw right back at Sam.

"We better work fast and coffee up," Bobby ordered, "Because one thing we cannot do is fall asleep."

Singer hadn't been kidding. The next two days blurred together in a mix of dead ends and long car rides. I felt like a ghost, passing through the minutes without having anything concrete to hold on to. Around the thirty second hour I could hardly feel my body, my mind to unfocused to comprehend what people where telling me. I wasn't sure when I hit the delirium stage, but I caught a serious case of paranoia.

I had tagged along with Sam and Dean everywhere they went. Mostly because Bela was helping Bobby with her spirit board and I was pretty sure she was planning to hang me up by my ankles and stilt my throat to bottle my blood for mass production. I wasn't about to stick around to find out. So when Bobby had recommended a strip club he learned Frost frequented, I was more than happy to get away from her. It had been a bust, unfortunately. Now we were jetting down a back road at scary speeds considering how exhausted Dean was.

"This Jeremy guy's not a frigging ghost," Dean snapped, his voice rising, "Where the hell could he be?"

"You sure you don't want me to drive?" Sam asked, he had claimed the front seat by guiding me to the back without asking when we left the club. I could tell by the concern in his eyes that it was because if Dean passed out he'd be able to grab the wheel, "You seem a little… caffeinated."

"Thanks for the news flash, Edison!" Dean snapped at him.

I giggled, and Sam turned to look at me while Dean looked at me in the rear view mirror. I shrugged and giggled more, covering my mouth with my hand. Dean's cell phone ringed and he went after it, angered by the sound of it. Muttering as he tried to pull it out of his pocket with more force then was required. Watching him made my giggles turned to hysterical laughter. I dropped my head on to the seat to stiffen them.

"Tell me you got something," Dean demanded the phone, "Yeah… What the hell, Bobby?"

I shot back up and leaned over the front seat, scooting closer to Dean so I could hear the conversation over the phone, he glared at me leaning away and motioning me to back off. I smiled at him, laying my head on the back rest so I could look at him.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm just- I'm tired. What's Bela got?" Dean waited for his response. Whatever it had been made his anger flare up again, "Great! Well, I'm just gonna go blow my brains out now!"

Dean snapped the phone shut and tossed it onto the car seat. He grunted, slamming his hand against the steering wheel. Another giggle bubbled out of me, and I slid backwards and shook my head at him.

"What's so damn funny?" Dean snapped, turning the Impala so suddenly that I slid across the seat and slammed into the door. He pulled onto a dirt road, driving until the trees around us hid the car from the main road.

"Nothing," I gasped, clutching at my side that was starting to hurt from laughing so hard, "I get the giggles when I'm tired. I'm sorry, I can't stop them."

"Whatever," Dean said, pulling to a stop and turning off the car. He scooted down, resting his head on the back of the seat, "All right, that's it. I'm done."

I tilted my head, raising my eyebrows at him, "Done with what?"

Dean sighed, "I'm taking myself a long-overdue nap."

"Dean," Sam snapped, "Jeremy can come after you!"

"That's the idea," Dean mumbled, closing his eyes.

"Excuse me?" Sam demanded, turning his torso to face his brother and draping his long arm over the backrest.

"Come on," Dean said, lifting his head to look at his brother, "We can't find him, so let him come to me."

"On his own turf?" Sam snapped, the amount of annoyance he had was enough to shock me out of my giggle fit and remind me how serious this was, "Where he's basically a god?"

"I can handle it," Dean muttered.

He dropped his head back down and I ran my hand back threw his hair. His eyes flew open and he started to lift his head, but before he could pull away I grabbed a decent sized chunk of it and yanked it free of the scalp.

"Ow!" Dean yelled, sitting up to glare at me as he rubbed his head, "What the hell was that for?"

"Sam and I are coming with you," I said.

"You can't do it alone," Sam agreed, taking the hairs from me.

"Yes, I can," Dean grumbled, "And no, you're not."

"Why not?" Sam insisted, "At least then it'll be three against one."

Dean hesitated, the wheels turning in his mind before he said, "I don't want you two digging around in my head."

"Too bad," Sam told him as he got to work making the tea.

Dean shook his head and sunk back down. I did the same, my mind drifting. At some point Sam had handed me the tea, if you could even call it that, and I had chugged it as fast as I could to. I vaguely remembered setting my cup down, or maybe I had dreamt I had, I wasn't sure. I spread out over the back seat, getting comfortable. I was asleep before my eyes closed.

"True?" Dean's voice boomed through the haze of sleep.

"What?" I sat up, my vision slowly clearing as I looked around in panic.

Sam and Dean where still sitting in the front seat of the Impala, looking at me with eyes wide with confusion. When they were sure I was good, they turned back around in their seats to look out the windshield. We were still parked in the woods, right where we had been. We'd slept and Frost hadn't shown up to exact his godly powers onto us. I stretched, I didn't feel any less tired then I had before but sleep was sleep.

It was Dean who voiced the question we had all been thinking, "What are you still doing here?"

"I have no idea," Sam admitted, his hunter eyes examine the woods around us. We waited in silence, deliberating this when the sound of a twig breaking caught our attention, "There's someone out there."

I didn't have the energy to thank him for pointing out the obvious. We got out of the Impala together and walked around to the front of the car. I scanned the surrounding trees for any sign of Frost, hoping that maybe it had just been a dear and we could get back into the car and sleep some more. There was no such luck for me as Doris Day's _Dream a Little Dream of Me_ seemed to start playing out of thin air.

"Dean?"

I turned back to the car at the sound of my own voice to see another me sitting on top of the Impala. Dream me was wearing a pair of tight jeans with holes in the knees, a white shirt under a leather jacket, and converse. Her auburn hair fell in waives around her shoulders and she sat with her ankles crossed and propped up on the windshield. Her makeup was natural, the way I usually had it, and her smile was bright. I didn't know what to think, Dean dreamt about me.

"I thought you were going to leave Sam behind this time?" Dream me said, her eyes flickering in Sam's direction before returning to Dean.

"He is always interrupting us," I said helpfully, not knowing what else to say, "Is she prettier than me? I feel like she's prettier than me."

Dean turned around to narrow his eyes at me and Dream me smiled a little brighter. Dean turned back to her, clearing his throat and sounding halfheartedly annoyed when he said, "Get off my car."

"Please," Dream me said, sitting up. She pulled her knees up and rested her elbows on them, locking her hands together and tilting her head to the side, "We both know I look damn good on this car."

Dean made a noise in the back of his throat, a sound that said he agreed. Dream me's smile only grew, her attention on Dean and no one else. She slid to the edge of the hood, placing her feet on the ground before stand up. She dusted imaginary dirt from her hands before situating her jacket. I waited and watched her, half eager to see where this dream was going and half dreading it.

"Another time, cherry pie," she sighed, looking disappointed as she lifted her hand and pointed at the woods behind us. Dean opened his mouth, but he didn't have time to respond. Dream me did a little glitch and then vanished.

I turned in the direction she had pointed and saw Frost peeking out from behind a tree. He took off running and we all chased after him. In the midst of ducking around tree branches and jumping over fallen logs, I somehow got turned around. I paused, spinning in a circle trying to spot the Winchesters through the foliage. The woods started to morph and blurred together. The trees grew into walls, the moss turned to carpet, and furniture sprouted out of nowhere until I was standing in the middle of the bedroom.

It was night outside, and it took my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness of the room. When they did I took in my surroundings. There were toy cars scattered across the floor, cartoon posters on the walls. I turned around to see that the door I had walked through was a closet. Glancing around I found the bed where a boy, maybe four or five, was fast asleep.

"Dean?" I whispered, trying not to wake the kid, "Sam?"

There was no answer. I shuffled my way to the door, reaching for the handle just as an ear shattering scream echoed through the house. The little boy shot up in bed, panting as he starred at his slightly open door, the light of the hallway shinning across his little face causing his green eyes to shine. I was torn between staying with him or fallowing the sound of the scream. Remembering this was Dean's head, I rushed forward and threw open the door just as man rushed past me.

"Mary?" the man called as I followed him down the hallway, before he turned into one of the bedrooms. He paused in the middle of the room, looking around. I joined him, but the only thing out of the ordinary I saw was the baby in the crib, cooing softly.

"Hey, Sammy," the man said, stepping up to the crib. He reached in rubbing the babies chest lightly, "You okay?"

"Sammy?" I asked him, rushing to his side and peering down at the baby, "As in Winchester?"

I looked down into the happy face of the baby. A drop of thick red liquid fell from the ceiling and the man reached forward, touching it with his fingers. He lifted his hand, swirling the liquid with his thumb. It was blood. I glanced up, my mouth falling open at the horror on the ceiling. A woman was hanging there, dressed in a white night gown, her mouth open in a silent scream. A line of dark blood soaked across her abdomen.

"No!" The man said, stumbling backwards and falling to the floor to get away from what he was seeing, "Mary!"

A spark erupted behind the woman and she was instantly engulfed in flames that soon begun to spread throughout the room. Sam screamed in his crib. I spun around and reached for Sam but my hands slipped right through him as I tried to lift him. I couldn't interfere.

"Get Sam!" I ordered the man.

As if he could hear me, he pulled himself up on his feet and lifted Sam into his arms. Cradling him close, he hurried out of the room. With one last quick glance at Mary I fallowed after him.

"Daddy!"

I ran down the hallway, ducking past the man as he handed the baby boy, Dean, who had been sleeping earlier. He looked horrified, his eyes round with fear. The kid reminded me so much of Indigo it was hard to fight back the feeling of scooping him into my arms and making a break for it.

"Take your brother outside as fast as you can," The man ordered the child, "Don't look back. Now, Dean! Go!"

The man, John, turned back around and disappeared back into Sam's bedroom. I hesitated only a moment, reminding myself that there was nothing I could do for their mother, before I hurried after Dean. We raced down the front entrance hallway, Dean pausing only long enough to through open the door before heading outside.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean said, stopping on the grass outside their house to look up at the window. His father came barreling out of the house, scooping his sons into his arms as he ran away from the house. I watched as the fire exploded from the window and jolted awake.

Panting, I looked around to find Sam and Dean in the front seat. They shared a look, and then turned to face me. None of us spoke as Dean started the Impala and back out to the main road. Sam told us that Frost was dead, and called Bobby to tell him the good news. We returned to the motel and I walked into the room and dived under the blanket, shoes and all, and closed my eyes. I didn't care that Sam, Dean, and Bobby where all gathered in the kitchen, talking about everything that had happened. I just wanted to sleep, and I did. Thankfully, I didn't have any dreams.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

A dreamless night made for a restless morning. I felt like I hadn't gotten more than two hours of sleep when I finally gave in and rolled out of bed. Stretching my hands over my head, I glanced around for the others. Sam was asleep in the other queen bed and Dean was sitting in one of the cushion chairs, his feet propped up on another. He was fast asleep, his head lobed to one side. I smiled, wondering if he got the chairs because he had lost some bet he had with Sam. I did one last scan of the room for Bobby, but there was no sign of him.

I sucked in as much air as I could until my lungs felt like they would burst and then blew it out. I stood and walked to the bathroom, closing the door as quietly as I could behind me. I stepped to the sink and grabbed my makeup bag from where I had left the other day. I dug around till I found my toothbrush and toothpaste and started cleaning away my morning breath as I stared into the mirror.

I was still wearing my hunter outfit, but someone had taken off my shoes. My hair was a frizzy mess like it usually was in the morning and there was a red mark on the side of my face from the pillow. All in all I looked exactly the same, but I didn't feel like it. It had only been a few months since I learned about the Devils Gate, but it felt like forever. So much had happened and I wasn't the same person I was then.

Unwanted thoughts about Echo and the demon swirled inside my head. A sudden fear racked my body and I wondered what the demon was doing, if Echo was still alive. The hopeful part of my mind told me that there was no way the demon could kill Echo, she was way to badass. Then again so was the rest of my family and look what happened to them. The demon had swooped in and wiped them out, so why the hell wasn't she coming after me?

It was horrifying to think that whatever Azazel had planned for Sam was keeping the demon at bay, and my mind went through all the things they could want him for. I didn't like being in the dark, and I hated waiting, but Dean had been right. I have no way of knowing where the demon was, and if it was a part of some huge demon army then going and looking for it would be suicide. I wasn't ready to die, so as much as I hated to wait I'd do it. I'd just have to prepare for what was coming. Everything that was coming.

Thoughts of Dean came tumbling into my head like a land slide, filling up every space they could wiggle their way into. My stomach knotted as I pictured his face in my head as clearly as if he was standing before me. He dreamt about me. The thought was enough to send an electric pulse through my body, causing my heart to beat faster and my cheeks to warm. I could still feel his body against mine, the taste of his lips. My heart clenched in pain and I gripped the sink fighting it. Dean was going to die.

I squeezed my eyes shut trying to force myself to stop the twisted images of Dean being dragged into hell, but noting quitted them. Frustrated, I opened the door and tiptoed over to my duffle bag, thankfully both boys where still asleep. I dug out my black under armour long sleeved top and leggings before disappearing back into the bathroom to change. I pulled on my socks and tennis shoes, and then gathered up my phone and head phones and slipped out the door leaving the hotel.

It was dark outside, only pale lights far in the distance showed signs that the sun would be rising within the hour. Everything was quite around me, everyone still fast asleep. I yanked my hair into a high ponytail and stretched my limbs until I was nice and lose. I stuck my headphones into the port of my cell and pulled up my playlist. Once I had Superchick's _Hey Hey_ blaring loud enough in my head that it silenced all my thoughts, I slipped the phone down my shirt to keep the headphones out of my way and tucked the phone into the hidden pocket of my leggings. I bounced back and forth and then I pushed off.

I ran as hard and as fast as I could. My lungs burned and my legs shook, but still I pushed on. The balls of my feet dug into the ground with each step, launched me farther and farther. I ran until the pale light of the dawn lit my way, moving through the city streets. Luckily there weren't many people on the streets to dodge, so I was able to run at my top speed. I felt free, running and leaving all my fears and worries behind.

My mind was too focused on the movements, catching every piece of debris I could trip over and telling my limbs to move faster. I sang along to all the songs that came through on my phone, not bothering to change the song when something slow started to play. No thoughts were able to come though the mental door I'd locked to keep them at bay. They'd break though eventually, just like they always did, but not yet.

I rounded a corner, planning to cut down an alley way so I could make my way back to the hotel, and nearly ran into a man. I skittered to a stop, taking several steps back to but a good distance between us. I pulled the headphones out of my ears, letting them dangle as I looked the man up and down. He had a thug look about him, with his black tang top and the baseball cap that sat at an angle on his head. He was wearing loose fitted jeans and expensive shoes. He smirked at me, tilting his head back and looking me up and down like I was prey.

"Hey, baby," the man said licking his lips as he looked me up and down, "You lost?"

I bounced back and forth on the balls of my feet, adrenalin corseting through my body. I could have made a run for it and be gone before he reached the mouth of the alley, but I didn't. I rubbed my fingers together, my body ready and begging for a fight. I smiled sweetly at him, "Trust me, sugar, this is one fight you're gonna wanna walk away from."

"Oh, yeah?" the man challenged, his smirk growing. Two more equally thuggish men walked out of the back door to the building beside us to flank him, "I think this is _exactly_ the kind of fight I've been waiting for."

I smiled back at him. Running had been good, nearly enough to work off the stress, but now I wanted to fight. Three against one meant could go all out, and a wave of excitement rushed through me. I looked from one man to the other, calculating the fight. They were all human, at least as far as I could tell, so unless one had some experience it wasn't going to be much of a fight. I was a little disappointed, but I'd take what I could get.

I wrapped my head phoned around the back of my neck and tucked the ear pieces under my shirt to keep them safe. I slid my right foot back, my muscles tightening and waiting. I bent at the knees and Ring Leader ran forward, diving in for a tackle. I whipped out my leg when he was close enough, kicking him across the head. He's body flew to the side and he barely had time to catch himself before his face decorated the brick wall. Ring Leader groaned, holding the side of his head in pain. I smiled, looking at the other two.

Goon One, the man on the right, ran at me. I grabbed hold of his jacket, using the momentum of his run I turned to throw him down the alley behind me. I ran at Goon Two, grabbing hold of his shirt and putting my foot against his chest as I dropped backward, pulling him with me and using my leg as a levee to send him head over heels over me until his back slammed into the ground. I placed my hands on either side of my head and kicked off the ground, pushing up with my arms as I did a reverse summersault, landing with my feet on either side of Goon One's torso. I grabbed hold of his shirt, lifting him off the ground slightly and holding him steady as I landed three punches to his face. Blood gushed from his nose as he struggled to stay conscious.

I released him, stepping away as he rolled to his side in pain. I was grabbed from behind, the man wrapping his arm over my shoulders so his radial bone was against my neck to keep my pressed against him. Ring Leader walked in front of me and landed two quick blows to my gut. It knocked the wind out of me, and I bit down hard on the inside for my cheek to keep from showing any pain. He went in for a third blow, but I shot out my hands with the base of my palms together to catch his fist. Ring Leader pulled his hand free and I used his hesitation to take hold of Goon Two's arm, using it for support as I lifted my feet and slammed them into the chest of Ring Leader.

The force of the kick had booth men of balance. Ring Leader stumbled backwards, tripping over Goon One and slammed into a dumpster, and Goon Two's grip slipped. I took hold of his wrist and spun under his arm twisting with enough momentum to cause him to flip forward onto his back. Still holding his arm, I brought back my foot and kicked him in the head. His eyebrow split open and blood seeped into his eye.

Ring Leader ran over to me and grabbed me around the waist, lifting me up and tossing me away from his friend. I rolled when I hit the ground, smoothly standing up and facing him. He stepped to me, bobbing like a boxer as he held his fist in front of his face. He swung and I ducked low. His body turned and exposing his back side. I did a quick kick to his side and then spun, landing another kick to the back of his knee, forcing him down. I spun in the opposite direction and back handed him across the face with my closed fist, and he collided with the asphalt.

Goon One managed to get to his feet and rushed over to me, swinging out his fist. I dodged, but he was quick and attempted an upper cut. I stepped back, evading his move just in time. I kicked him in the chest, causing him to hunch over and I landed another kick to his face, knocking his head backward. He regained his footing before he fell and advanced on me again. He moved in with a punch and I held up my arm to block, knocking his arm to the right.

Taking hold of his arm I brought my knee into his gut then bent my leg up at the knee to kick him in the face. I turned away from him, brining my leg to his left side and turning again so I could kick him in the back of the head. He stumbled forward and I kicked the back of his knee to buckle his legs. I placed my hands on the left side of his head and bashed his head into the dumpster. He collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

"Let's get out of here!" Someone shouted. I spun around to see Goon Two pulling Ring Leader to his feet, "The bitch is crazy!"

Goon Two and Ring Leader scrambled off, leaving Goon One lying in the filth of the alley. I turned and continued down the direction I had originally planned to take before I was so rudely interrupted. I pulled up my shirt to assess the damage done to my stomach. The skin was sore and red and I'd probably have a bruise, but nothing serious. One of the knuckles of my right hand had split open, but it was hardly more than a scratch. The only other injuries where the palms of my hands from when I'd been thrown on the ground, so it hadn't been much of a fight on my end

I pulled my head phones back out and stuck them in my ears, pulling my phone out to start the music back up. When I turned on my phone it flashed that I had missed three calls from Dean, two from Sam and five from Claire, not to mention the ten voicemails and countless text messages from all of them, all in the last ten minutes. I cursed under my breath and listened to each voicemail as I walked down the sidewalk.

They were all jumbled together, but they all asked where I was and the more I listened to the more worried Claire got and the angrier Dean became. In one of the voicemails Claire had mentioned that Sam had called her to ask if she had heard from me. I cursed again, not bothering with the text messages as I called Claire back.

"Where the hell?" Claire yelled into the phone when she answered, "Are you okay? What the hell happened?"

"Babe, deep breaths," I said, taking a deep breath and blowing it into the phone as example, "I went for a run. I didn't notice my phone going off."

Claire took a staggering breath, "Sam called me and asked if I heard from you and then you didn't answer your phone and I was freaking out!"

"I know, Claire," I said gently, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Well, you did!" Claire yelled, sounding more like a mother then my best friend. The phone went quite and I could hear her taking in a breath, holding it in, and then blowing it out. It was a breathing technique she had learned to try and help her manage her anxiety, and she did it five times before she continued in a calmer voice, "How was your run?"

"It was good," I told her, "Got into a fight with a couple hooligans, but nothing I couldn't handle."

"Were they human?" Claire asked causally, but I could hear the concern in her tone.

"Yep," I said as cheerfully as I could.

I let Claire talk about unimportant life things, like the color of her new manicure and what color was in this season, the full half hour walk it took me to get back to the motel. Dean called me twice more during that time, but I wasn't ready to talk to him yet. Claire had a lot to say, and wasn't done when I informed her I had to go to face the wrath of the Winchesters.

"I love you, True," Claire said, "Be safe."

"Always," I smiled into the phone, "Love you, too, babe."

I hung up the phone just as I reached the hotel door. I reached for the handle, but my wrist was grabbed and I was pulled around. I peered up into the vibrant, and fuming, green eyes of Dean. He pulled me away from the door before spinning around to face me and shoving me against the brick wall of the hotel.

"Where the hell were you?" Dean demanded

"I went for a run," I snapped back, shoving his hand away from me, "I needed alone time."

"You want time to think, you lock yourself in the bathroom like a normal girl," Dean shouted, his face turning red with anger, "You don't go running when you have a demon out to kill you!"

"I don't run to think," I yelled back, "I wanted to stop thinking!"

"Hey!"

Dean and I both turned to see a heavy set girl, a few years younger than me, storming down the sidewalk to stand beside us. Her black pixy cut hair spiked up at odd angles and she wore black lips stick and black clothes, rocking the hardcore Goth look. She crossed her arms over her chest, her wrist strapped with thick black leather bracelets that had spikes around the edges in a neat row. She narrowed her eyes at Dean.

"Is this guy bothering you?" The girl asked me.

Dean shot her a look like daggers and I quickly shook my head, "I'm fine."

The girl didn't back off. She glared right back at Dean before looking at me, her eyes softening like a flick of a switch, "Are you sure?"

"I can handle him," I said, flashing the girl a reassuring smile, "Thanks for checking, though. I appreciate it."

The girl pursed her lips, but nodded. Shooting one last glare at Dean she turned and walked away as slow as a snail, shooting glances at me over her shoulder in case I really did need her. I smiled at her, already liking the girl. Most people would just walk by because this was none of their business, but she had stopped. She had cared. We need more people like that in this world.

We waited until she was out of ear shot before turning back to each other. Dean was still fuming, gritting his teeth as his chest rose and fell with short breaths. I rolled my eyes and turned to walk back toward the entrance. I wasn't in the mood for a lecture and sure as hell wasn't going to wait around for one. Dean fallowed me into the building, and we turned down our hallway to make our way back to our room. He sent a text that I assumed was to Sam.

"Do you dream about me a lot?" I found myself asking before I realized it. When Dean hesitated I added, "I'm just curious, _cherry pie_."

"It was just a dream, True," Dean muttered, realizing that I had used the nickname to get a rise out of him, "It didn't mean anything."

"Liar," I teased, "Tell me honestly that right here, right now, that you don't want to kiss me."

The muscles of Dean's jaw tightened, causing the vain in his temple to pop slightly. His voice was harsh when he finally spoke, "I don't want to kiss you."

I wondered if it sounded anymore a lie to his ears as it did mine, but still it cut like a knife through my heart. I shoved down the hurt before saying, "Your mind says no but your body says yes."

Dean remained silent and we reached our room. Dean opened the door and stepped inside, walking across the room to where his duffle bag sat at the table. He dug through it, keeping his hands busy. I glanced around as I shut the door to find the others absent. I looked at Dean, catching a glimpse of the smooth skin of his back as he reached under the hem of his shirt to scratch his side. It was enough for my breath to hitch in my throat and warmth spread across my cheeks. I watched him, taking in the broad shoulders and the way his shirt hung around his waist when it fell back into place.

"Why did you kiss me when we first met?" I asked, unable to hide the desire for him in my voice, "Why did you open that can of worms?"

"That was back when you were just-" Dean fell silent, running his hand through his hair.

"Just what?" I demanded. My heart was racing, my mind conjuring up everything he could have meant, the words I so desperately wanted him to say.

"You where a smoking hot chick half naked in my hotel room, sweetheart, what guy wouldn't want to kiss you?" Dean shook his head, "I didn't think you would be around this long."

"But I'm still here, Dean," I said softly, "Unless I leave-"

"No," Dean said, turning around to look at me, "You're still stuck with us until we gank your demon."

"And until then?" I asked.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Dean said.

"And we just, what, pretend that we don't want each other?" I demanded, my voice rising. I fought to stay calm. I'd been turned down by guys before, I knew I could be a handful, but I'd never gotten angry. Hurt and a little sad, but nothing like this. It was so frustrating.

"If we have to," Dean shot back.

"I'm sorry, that's not enough for me," I yelled.

"Then what is enough?" Dean demanded.

I marched across the room and reached up and cupped the back of his neck, pulling his head forward and sanding on my toes so I could press my lips against his. The world vanished in a blaze of white hot passion as Dean's arms went around me, crushing me against him. I tangled my hands in his hair, loving ever moment of it.

The kiss was demanding, and there was something almost desperate in the way we clung to each other. I wanted him, all of him, and I would never be ready to lose any of him. He was the enough that I needed. I'd made my point and struggled to fight the overwhelming need to keep going, to not stop until he was mine and I was his.

Dean found the hem of my shirt, the roughness of his calloused hands digging into the skin of my hip as he pulled me against him. Dean took my bottom lip between his teeth, biting and pulling at it. I groaned, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and shoved his jacket down his arms. Dean let it fall to the floor before he leaned forward, grabbing the back of my thighs and lifting me onto the table. He shoved his duffle to the side and it fell to the floor with a thud.

Dean's hand tangled in my hair, his tongue invading my mouth as he deepened the kiss. I wrapped my legs around his waist, lost in the moment. There was no denying the absolute bliss I felt in Dean's arms and I wasn't aware that time was still moving round us, but as suddenly as the heat had started it was broken when Dean leaned back, breaking the kiss. Panting, I gazed into his intense green eyes.

Dean shook his head, looking at me in bewilderment, "There's no happy ending for us, True."

I blinked, and the rest of the world broke through my haze and the pain of what was coming was back. Dean closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against mine. I placed my hands on either side of his face, brining his lips to mine as gently as I could. I wanted to banish whatever bad thoughts either of us where thinking again, but it was no use.

"You do care rather you live or die," I whispered. I hadn't meant it as a question, but Dean nodded all the same. "What did you see in your head, with Frost?"

"I met you at the worst possible time," Dean muttered rather than answering my question, his breath tickling the stray hairs on my face.

"No kidding," I whispered. Dean was quite, still holding me as he took slow deep breaths as if he could breathe me into him.

"Sam thinks we should give it a go," I whispered.

"Sam's an idiot," Dean muttered, "And you're naive."

"He just wants you to be happy," I argued, "That doesn't make him an idiot. And I'm not naïve."

I knew exactly what I was getting into. I knew how much pain this was going to cause me. Every part of my brain screamed for me to stop, to just walk away, but I couldn't. I wouldn't. I didn't even want to try. With Dean, and even Sam, it was still the safest place I'd felt in a long time. In some sick way, I was even happy, and it was horrible.

"Yes, it does," Dean said. He took a step back and I was left feeling cold and empty without his presence.

He ran his hand over the top of his head, resting it at the base of his neck as he stared at a random spot on the wall across from him. I waited for him to say more, but he remained quite. His shoulders slouched forward, and he massaged the back of his neck.

"Dean," I said, trying to put as much emotion and meaning into his name as I could.

Dean turned his eyes to me, focusing hard enough on me that I was pretty sure he was going to burn a hole in my head, "You should get cleaned up. We have to get going."

I clenched and unclenched my jaw, but I knew by the look in his eyes that I wasn't going to get anymore out of him. I slid off the table and I grabbed my duffle bag from where I had left it. I headed into the bathroom, showering until the water ran cold and dressing in jeans and a fitted hot pink shirt with the design of a gun shooting smoke up the side of the shirt. I brushed out my hair and didn't bother with my make up as I shoved my dirty clothes into the duffle and grabbing my makeup bag as I walked back into the main room.

Dean had pulled his jacket back on and he was glaring down at his phone, pressing a button and holding it to his ear. His face twisted into confusion as he lowered his phone when no one answered his call.

"What's wrong now?" I asked, tossing my duffle on the bed and sitting beside it so I could dig through it for socks.

"Nothing," Dean said, trying to forge nonchalant, but I saw the tension in his shoulders. He glanced at me before returning back to his phone, "You hungry?"

I tilted my head to the side, focusing on my stomach. Yesterday I had refused to eat anything that was put in front of me; the lack of sleep had left me without an appetite. Today, even after my work out, the thought of food had my stomach doing a disgruntled flip. I crinkled my nose, "Not really."

"To bad," Dean said, sliding his phone into the pocket of his jacket, "You can't survive on coffee and more coffee."

"Then I'll switch to tea," I said, annoyed at how he was acting like nothing had just happened between us. I found a clean pair of plain white ankle socks and started tugging them on.

"You have to at least try and eat some real food," Dean said.

"Yes, dad," I said, rolling my eyes at him as I stood to get my boots.

Dean grabbed his duffle bag and set it back on the table, making sure everything was in there. He glanced over his shoulder at me as I sat back down on the bed. I dropped my boots by my feet and raised my eyebrow at him, waiting for him to say something. The door to the hotel room opened, stopping Dean from speaking, and Sam and Bobby walked in.

"Where the hell did you disappear to this morning?" Bobby asked me, sounding more worried than angry.

"I went for a run," I told him, taken aback by his tone and trying not to show the contempt I felt. I get it; I shouldn't have gone for a run without telling someone. It wouldn't do it again.

"Have you guys seen Bela?" Dean asked, changing the topic, "She's not in her room and she's not answering her phone."

"She must've taken off or something," Sam said uninterested, but he gave me a pointed look.

"Good riddance," I muttered, sticking my tongue out at him.

"Just like that?" Dean asked, ignoring me as he looked to his brother then Bobby, "A little weird."

"If you ask me, what's weird is why she helped us in the first place," Bobby said, his bushy brows pulling together.

"I thought you saved her life," Dean asked.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Bobby demanded, looking at each of us in turn. When he got to me I shrugged.

"That thing at Flagstaff?" Dean said slowly. We all turned to look at Bobby expectantly.

"That thing at Flagstaff was an amulet," Bobby explained, lifting up his hands like it was just a run of the mill thing that he'd done, "I gave her a good deal, that's all."

"Well, then why did-?" Sam begun, but realization crossed his face.

"You guys better check your pockets," Bobby said.

I glanced down at the inside of my elbows checking for needle marks but didn't find any. Maybe she wasn't as much of a bitch as I had original thought, considering she hadn't stolen any of my blood. Satisfied, I reached down and started putting on her boots. I didn't have anything else worth stealing that would make her any money.

Bobby rolled his eyes, "Not literally."

"No, no, no," Dean growled as he stormed into the closet, reaching up and pulling open the safe and sure enough it was empty. Dean slammed the door shut as hard as he could, metal knocked against metal with a satisfying clank. Anger twisted his face, his eyes darkening with enough hate that I thought he might actually shoot her next time she came around. If she was stupid enough to do that, anyway.

"The Colt," Sam stated, his own fury seeping into his voice, "Bela stole the Colt."

"Damn it, boys," Bobby snapped, glaring at Sam and Dean.

"Pack your crap," Dean ordered.

"Isn't that what we were already doing?" I asked, waving my hand to indicate their bags and getting a glare from Dean.

"Why?" Sam asked, "Where are we going?"

"We're gonna hunt the bitch down," Dean snapped.

Dean grabbed his bag and stormed from the room. Bobby, Sam and I all shared a look. I shrugged and stood, tossing my makeup bag into my duffle and zipping it close. Sam grabbed his own bag and we left the room, not bothering to shut the door as we went. Bobby pulled ahead of Sam and me, walking to catch up with Dean who was probably already out by the Impala.

"You're being abnormally quite," Sam informed me as we walked down the hallway.

"What do you mean?" I asked, tilting my head to peer up at him.

"You just seem, I don't know, distant," Sam said with an indifferent shake of his head. There was something there, just beneath the surface of his hazel eyes that he wasn't saying.

"I'm just thinking," I told him, narrowing my eyes.

"About what?" Sam asked.

That was an excellent question. I thought about what Dean has said, about how at first I was just another girl, but now I wasn't. He made it sound like I was something to him, and the thought brought a smile to my face. I touched my lips, still feeling the pressure of Dean's kiss there.

"True?" I glanced up at the sound of Sam's voice. He was looking at me with cunning eyes. "What are you thinking about?"

"You think that if Dean falls for me then he'd have something worth fighting for," I said when the light bulb clicked on in my head, "That's why you want us together."

Sam's face turned defensive, "Dean wants to protect you because he cares. You give him something to hold on to. You could save him."

"No, I can't," I was silent as those words echoed in my head over and over.

We walked out of the hotel and I stopped in my tracks. Dean was standing next to Bobby by a beat up old car. They were talking, too lost in their own conversation to bother glancing up to see me and Sam. I watched him, my heart pounding as a smile slid across his face at something Bobby was saying. I wanted to save him, but how could I? I turned to look at Sam, who was watching me with a pleading look that I was sure was on my own face.

"I don't know how," I admitted, my voice cracking on the last word.

"We'll figure out something," Sam said, his voice hard and sure.

I nodded, taking a steadying breath and forced my face blank. I squared my shoulders and walked across the blacktop to stand by Bobby. Sam stepped beside me, nodding at Bobby before turning his gaze to Dean.

"I'm gonna head back home," Bobby said, "I'll call some contacts and dig up what I can on Bela."

I held my hand out to him, "It was an honor to meet you, Bobby."

Bobby shook my hand before giving a nod to the Winchesters as he got into his car and drove off. Dean walked over to the Impala and popped the trunk and tossed in his bag. I turned to follow after him, but the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Feeling like I was being watched again, I turned scanning my surroundings. Like before I couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, that was more worrisome then anything. Shaking the feeling off, I walked over to join Sam and Dean by the Impala.

"Hey, guys, I was wondering," Dean asked, "When you were in my head, what did you see?"

"Uh, just Jeremy," Sam said, hitching his shoulders a bit, "He kept me separated from you. Easier to beat my brains out that way, I guess."

Dean scoffed, shaking his head with annoyance. He turned to me, holding out his hand, "And you?"

I handed him my duffle bag, and tucked a stray hair behind my ear, "I saw you. You were about four or five, and, um, it was the night your mum died. At least I think it was. It could have just been a nightmare."

I gave them the abridged version of what I had seen, skimming over the details about their mother and father when I saw the pained looks in their eyes. Dean was deep in thought when he said, "You saw that?"

I nodded, squinting my eyes from the sun light as I looked at him, "Yeah."

Dean took a slow breath. I wanted to talk to him about it, asking him about his childhood after it was just his father taking care of them or if he remembered anything about his mother, but I didn't push the issue. I turned my gaze to the trunk, crossing my arms over my chest and rubbed the skin of my arm.

"What about you?" Sam asked Dean, "You never said."

"Nothing," Dean said, shutting the trunk and locking it before walking around the car, "I was looking for you two the whole time."

Dean pulled open the back door for me as he passed before getting into the front seat. I shared a look with Sam, both of us knowing that Dean was lying, before we got in the car, shutting the doors with a slam. I took my place in the middle, sinking low and propping my knees on the back of the front seat. Dean sat unmoving in the front seat while Sam buckled in.

"Sam," Dean said softly.

"Yeah?" Sam asked.

Dean cleared his throat, "I've been doing some thinking. Well, the thing is, I don't wanna die. I don't wanna go to hell."

I took in a sharp breath, looking at the back of Dean's head. Sam stared at Dean, shocked by his brother's words. He turned, looking at me as if to say I told you so. I opened my mouth, but had no clue where to start so I closed it. I knew Dean didn't want to die, but hearing him say it was something else all together. Dean kept quiet, waiting to see what Sam was going to say.

"Alright, yeah," Sam said finally, unable to hide the hint of relief in his voice, "We'll find away to save you."

"Okay, good," Dean released the breath he had been holding.

He glanced back at me and I could only nod in agreement. The corners of my lips twitched up in a sad smile, and I could feel my doubt flashing across my face. I took a deep breath, forcing my face to be perfectly bank. Dean swallowed hard and turned around, starting the Impala. He pressed against the gas and we raced off. Heading to the horizon with one goal in mind: To save Dean.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Hi, everyone! Before we start this chapter I just want to thank you all so much for reading this story and for following/favoring it. It means a lot to me and I'm glad I have all you wonderful people to share it with. I love you guys!**

 **P.S. Just because I haven't done this in awhile: This is a fan based fiction. I do not own Supernatural or Van Helsing. No copyright intended.**

 **Chapter Eighteen**

The hunt for Bela had turned up nothing but dead ends for weeks, and after Sam's Tuesday fiasco, operation Save Dean's Soul wasn't going much better. Whatever point the Trickster was trying to prove didn't sink through Sam's thick skull, it only strengthened his resolve. He was more desperate to save his brother then before, and finding the Colt seemed to be the best way to accomplish that. So when we got word that Bela had been spotted in a small town called Monument in Colorado, we dropped everything and headed out.

The drive to Monument had been a long one, lasting nearly six hours, and tensions were high. After the first hour of silent driving, I tried to break the strain with some small talk. It didn't go very well, Dean was way to anger to talk much and he kept ranking up the music. Then next three hours I spend attempting to sleep in the back seat, but with the speed demon at the wheel hitting every bump he could, I gave up. The last hour I finally caved and asked Sam about the first time they had met the Trickster, and what we had done after Dean had died. I was somewhat amazed that in the six months that followed Dean's fake death, I still hadn't been killed by my demon.

"So, in this alternate world, you let me tag along with you?" I asked Sam as we drove down a dark street.

Dean's grip tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. He shot me a silencing glance in the rearview mirror but I ignored him. After my little confession, Dean had started to ignore me and only talking to me if he absolutely had to. Any messages he had for me were delivered through Sam or text now, but that didn't stop me from having one way conversations with him and buying him pie whenever it was my turn to get the food. I figured I'd soften him up eventually, until then I'd be annoying as possible.

"You didn't give me much choice," Sam said, shinning his flashlight on the map he had spread across his thighs, "Take the next right."

"What do you mean?" I asked, preparing myself for the upcoming fight. I turned my gun over in my hands, ejecting the magazine to make sure it was fully loaded before snapping it back into place. I made sure the safety was on then slid the gun into the back of my pants, making sure my jacket covered it.

Sam cleared his throat, "You, um, you tied me to a chair and threatened to keep me there unless I let you help me."

"Wow," I teased, "I took on a giant."

Sam scoffed, but it was true. With Sam's height and broad shoulders he was nearly twice the size of me. I knew I could take him down, but I'd have to do it fast. My best option was to get him down to my level or he would be able to overpower me.

"You back one hell of a punch," Sam said before nodding to Dean, "It should be on the left."

Dean parked outside a fancy bed and breakfast and like good little soldiers we filled out of the car and marched into the hotel in a single file line. Sam took the lead, with me in the middle and Dean behind me. I glanced at everyone we passed to make sure they weren't about to jump up and attack us as we made our way to the second floor where Bela's room was supposed to be.

Outside her room Sam dropped to one knee and quietly picked the lock while Dean and I stood on either side of him, watching the hallways for any uninvited guest. Sam let out a breath and rose to his feet, gripping the doorknob as we pulled out our guns. I clicked off the safety as Sam counted to three then pushed open the door.

Sam charged into the room first, followed by Dean, and me bringing up the tail. I swung the door shut behind me, standing by the door while Sam and Dean made sure it was empty. When Dean gave the coast-is-clear signal, we split. Dean headed for the dresser, Sam swung by the wardrobe, and I ducked in the bathroom.

I turned that little room inside out looking for the Colt. I shook out each of the towels, tossed the toiletries under the sink out of the way, and even looked in the bathtub and in the water tank of the toilet. Much as expected I found nothing. I went back into the bedroom, clicking on the safety and tucking my gun back into my cargo pants. I leaned against the door frame as Sam straightened and Dean dug around in the drawers.

"Any sign of it?" Dean demanded, hunching over to open the lower drawers.

"Nothing," Sam said, eying the room for any place she could have hid the Colt. I was half tempted to tell him to toss the bed, "Sure this is Bela's room?"

Dean pursed his lips, holding up a blond and brown wig he'd pulled out of the bottom drawer of the dresser, "I'd say so."

"Did we really think she'd just leave it here while she went out?" I asked. Dean huffed out a frustrated breath, throwing up his hands.

The phone rang abruptly, catching our attention. It was sitting on the right side of the unmade bed, half hidden underneath the blankets. Dean, being the closest, walked carefully over to the phone. He held out his arms questioningly, looking at Sam and me. Sam shook his head; he didn't have any more idea what to expect then the rest of us. I sighed, crossing my arms over my chest. This did not look good.

Dean placed his thumb and index finger on the phone and pulled it off the receiver, holding it close enough to his ear that he could hear whoever was on the other end. Whatever the other person said caused Dean's eyes to flash. His nostrils flared and his lips pressed tightly together as he worked to control his anger. I knew of only one person right now who could make Dean look like that.

"Where are you?" Dean fumed, his voice a scary calm, "Where?... I want it back, Bela. Now…. You understand how many people are gonna die if you do this?... Take the only weapon we have against an army of demons and sell it to the highest bidder?... I know I'm gonna stop you… Oh, I'll find you, sweetheart. You know why? Because I have absolutely nothing better to do then to track you down."

Dean's eyes jetted to Sam and then me, looking bewildered at something Bela had said. Before anyone had time to say anything the door was kicked open, splintered wood flew across the room as the doorjamb cracked from the force of the blow. Policemen in tan uniforms and bullet proofed vest poured into the room.

"Hands in the air!" One of the coppers bellowed, point his gun at Sam. Sam and Dean both lifted their hands in the air, not resisting. I shuffled backwards against the nearest wall, holding my hands up so that the men could see I wasn't holding anything.

"Down on your knees," another uniform ordered, advancing on Dean.

One of the other copper walked in pointing his gun from Dean to Sam and then spotted me. He approached me, placing one of his hands on my shoulder to keep me against the wall and keeping him between me and the others, for their protection or mine I couldn't tell. The copper glanced at his partners as they continued with arresting the boys. Sam's back was to me so I couldn't see his face, but Dean had the look of hell fire in his eyes.

"Bitch," Dean hissed.

"On the ground," One of the police men commanded him, motioning downward with his gun, "Now!"

Dean did as he was told, lowering himself down to his knees. The copper yanked his gun out of his hand, tossing it on the bed while the officer standing over Sam kicked his gun away. The officer in front of me hadn't bothered searching me. I briefly calculated how many head shots I could get off before one of them got a lucky shot at me, but since they were just humans and they had shoved Sam and Dean onto their stomachs, there wasn't much I could do. The coppers were being a little too rough with Winchesters for my taste, since neither of the boys was resisting. I gritted my teeth as they begun cuffing their hands.

"Sam and Dean Winchester, you are under arrest," the gent cuffing Dean started to recite their Miranda rights, "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney and have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you at government expense. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?"

A tall black man strolled purposefully into the room before the Winchesters could reply. He stood between Sam and Dean looking smug, a smile paying on his lips. His head was balled, with a neatly kept goatee around his mouth. He had on a suit underneath a bullet proofed vest and a windbreaker with the letters FBI printed in white over the left side of the chest. The man tucked his hands behind his back, immensely proud of himself.

"Hi, guys," the agent mused, looking from one Winchester to the other, "It's been awhile."

I my eyebrows shot up in surprise, and I looked around the copper still pinning me to the wall to see if I could catch the eye of either of the Winchesters but from where I was standing I couldn't see either of their faces. The fact that they were being hunted by the FBI would have been a nice thing to know since I was hunting with them. The agent glanced over at me, tilting his head to one side in curiosity. He walked around his officers, stepping over Sam's legs to stand before me.

"What's your name, sweetie?" The agent asked me in the same arrogant tone he used to talk to Sam and Dean. I remained silent, batting my eyes at him innocently. "Okay, don't talk, that's fine with me. I got what I came for."

The agent turned around and stepped back over Sam, stopping by the door while the officers begun to pat down Sam and Dean for any other weapons. Their pocket knives, flashlights, and lock picking tools where all put into evidence bags. The copper holding me tucked his gun into its holster.

I reached behind me and pulled out my gun, offering it to him with it flat on my palm, "I guess you're going to want this."

The copper was baffled by my submission. I lifted the gun a little higher, wiggling my hand expectantly. The man took the gun and handed it out to one of his partners standing behind him, "Put your hands on your head."

I did as I was told, interlocking my fingers on the top of my head as the copper began patting me down, sliding his hands down my sides, patting along my waistline before moving to my pockets. He pulled out my emergency containers of salt and holy water, a flashlight, my own lock picking kit, a pack of spearmint gum, and my razor wire. He unwrapped the wire from its protective sheath, moving his finger so it was hovering over the serrated edge.

"Careful," I warned him, "It's sharp."

Of course he didn't listen. He slid his finger along the edge, cursing out loud as he rose to his feet, sucking on his finger with the wire abandoned in a heap on the ground. I felt the officer's eyes on me and looked up to find him staring at me with wide eyes and I shrugged.

"Get them out of here," the FBI agent ordered.

Sam and Dean where yanked to their feet and led past the FBI agent who followed them out of the room. The copper who had cut his finger took me by the elbow and pulled me along next to him. We walked out of the hotel and were greeted by the silence of the night. Even in a small town like this I figured there'd be a line of people gawking at the criminals being arrested, but there was nothing. Perhaps the FBI where trying to keep this on the down low.

I glanced around for Sam and Dean, spotting them being loaded into a black SUV, but I lost sight of them as I was tugged toward a standard police car. The copper leading me pulled open the door and placed his hand on the top of my head, guiding me into the back seat. He slammed the door shut and walked off to talk with another police man. I tried to pull open the handle but it was locked, there was a wired fencing that separated the backseat from the front so I couldn't get out that way either. Several moments past before the copper and another officer slid into the front seat, and started the car and drove into the night.

It was only a fifteen minute car ride before we reached the little police station. Sam and Dean where out of the black SUV and another agent, this one white with a full head of hair, was putting ankle cuffs on them. The copper who was driving our car parked it and stepped out, walking to my door to open it for me. He reached in, taking hold of my elbow again and helping me from the car. He walked us toward the main entrance, Sam and Dean being lead in first.

The Winchesters took small steps as they shuffled through the police station, their chains rattling against the floor as they moved. The main room of the building had a few desk and hand full of staff that were looking at the Winchesters like Lucifer himself had just walked into the room. The agent leading them paused, everyone's eyes were on Sam and Dean, but I focused on the room.

The only real threat that I could discern was the two FBI agents. There was a sheriff, but he didn't look like he saw to many dark days in his time, and the deputy looked rather young and inexperienced. The only other person in the room was a young girl with around eyes and long dark hair, and she looked scared out of her mind. She must have been a secretary because she sat at a desk with a name plate that said her name was Nancy. She was rubbing a rosary that she held tightly in her hands.

"Why all the sourpusses?" Dean asked, smiling fearlessly at them. No one said anything to the hardened criminal they thought he was.

"I'll show you to the cells," the agents said as he started to pull at Dean's arm.

"Hey, hey. Watch the merchandise," Dean protested as he got pulled along. His eyes fell on Nancy, "We're not the ones you should be scared of, Nancy."

The agent tagged him along and they disappeared out of sight. I remained where I was for a moment, still being held at the elbow by the copper. The agent from the hotel walked over to us and didn't bother glancing at me when he pointed his finger in my direction, his eyes focused on the police man.

"Why isn't she in cuffs?" The agent asked.

The copper blinked at him before turning his eyes to me, "She's just a girl."

"Just a girl hanging around two psychos," Agent Jackass said. He turned around and motioned for the sheriff, "You got an interrogation room?"

"Yeah, round that way," the sheriff said, indicating with a tilt of his head.

"Put the girl in there," Agent Jackass ordered, "Get her fingerprints and put her in cuff."

"Come on, honey," The sheriff said, motioning with his fingers to follow him. I walked toward him, pulling free from the copper holding me. The sheriff put his hand on my back, leading me to the interrogation room.

The room was small with white walls, a single rectangular metal table that had two chairs on either side of it. The overhead lights were far too bright and the room was chilly. The sheriff walked me over to the far chair, sitting me down so I was facing a two-way window. He pulled a pair of handcuffs out of his belt and locked one around my wrist before sliding the cuff under a metal arch that was on the table in front of me and hooking it around my other wrist. He straightened, looking down at my hands with a shake of his head.

"I'm sorry about this, honey," The sheriff said. I glanced up into his warm eyes and believed him, "Do you need anything? Water?"

"No, I'm okay," I told him. The sheriff nodded and didn't say anything else as he left the room, shutting the door behind him.

I pulled at my handcuffs, running the metal chain across the arch again and again. I had never been integrated by the police or FBI, I'd never even been arrested. I knew I had nothing to worry about, they wouldn't find anything on me even if they ran my prints, but I still felt nervous. I didn't like enclosed places and I didn't like being tied up, it was harder to fight and left me feeling helpless. I gritted my teeth, thinking about Sam and Dean shackled together, but at least they weren't alone. Getting arrested by the FBI wasn't something we were going to get out of easily.

The sheriff returned a few moments later, leaving the door open, and laid a paper and black ink pad in front of me. The top half of the paper was used for the information of the suspect, like name, date they were printed, stuff like that. The middle had two rows of five squares, one for each finger of each hand, neatly labeled with the words left and right. The bottom half was for the palm impression.

The sheriff unshackled one of my hands and took hold of my finger in between his thumb and index finger. One by one, the sheriff rolled my fingers in the ink and then on the paper then moved on to the other one before cuffing me again. He pulled out an alcohol cloth from his pocket and tore it open and took hold of my hand.

"I can do that, sir," I said, taking the cloth in my hands and started cleaning my fingertips.

The sheriff shook his head as he closed is ink pad, " _Sir_? What kind of psycho calls a man sir?"

"A smart one," I responded, and then bit down on my tongue. I hadn't meant to say that aloud. I looked up to see the sheriff eyeing me. I cleared my throat, "The best killers are charismatic."

The sheriff opened his mouth to respond but the sound of a gunshot had us both looking at the door. A scream fallowed a few seconds later and I shot to my feet, my handcuffs catching on the metal bar that kept me in place. I looked out the open door, straining to hear what was going on. Fear clenched my chest. If Sam and Dean where still cuffed, if they were still in a cell, it would be like shooting fish in a barrel.

"Stay here!" The sheriff ordered me. I rattled my cuffs at him as snatched up his printing kit and he ran from the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Fuck," I hissed.

I wrapped my fingers around the bar keeping me attached to the table and pulled with everything I had but it didn't budge. Neither did the table. I sat down in my chair and looked at the legs of the table to find that they were cemented to the ground. I tapped my foot impatiently on the floor, clutching and unclenching my teeth as I focused my eyes on the door. I pulled at the cuffs, the cold metal digging into the back of my wrist, it hurt but I didn't care.

A loud explosion vibrated the walls making me jump. It was strong enough to knock the power out sending the room into darkness. It only lasted a few seconds before the backup generator kicked in and the emergency lights flickered on. This was more than just being arrested by the FBI, something bigger was going down. I tapped my foot faster against the ground as my anxiety built. I waited in pained silence, counting the seconds until the door finally opened and Agent Jackass walked into the room and I stilled.

"My name is Agent Victor Henriksen," The agent said shutting the door behind him. He walked over to the two-way mirror and leaned against it, holding a blue file in his hands and watched me closely. Remaining silent was all I could do to fight back the desire to ask about Dean and Sam. I tapped my finger against the table and counting out the soft taps, "You're name is True, right?"

I glanced up at him, raising my eyebrow. Henriksen nodded his head, daring me to start talking. I clenched my jaw and turned my gaze to my hand cuffs. Talking to the sheriff was one thing, the coppers here didn't see me as a threat, but in Henriksen's eyes I was already judged and scheduled for execution.

"You're boyfriend, Dean, wanted me to come check on you," Henriksen informed me, flipping open his file and looking through the photos as he walked toward the table. "The Winchesters seemed quite worried about you after they claimed my boss was possessed by a demon."

"Was?" I asked, sitting up a little straighter, "Did they exorcise it or is it still in the building? Are Sam and Dean okay?"

"Dean's been shot," Henriksen said, sounding a little too happy about that. I gritted my teeth, glaring at him as a cold stone formed in my chest. Henriksen waited a few more torturous moments, letting that thought sink in. If I wasn't cuffed I would have punched him. "In the shoulder. He'll live."

I held in a sigh of relief, "Did they exorcise the demon?"

"Wow," Henriksen said, not really sounding surprised or like he even cared, "Those boys really messed you up, didn't they?"

"I'm not messed up," I told him, "I'm enlightened."

"Look, I don't really care who you are," The agent said, throwing down the file on the table. He leaned his fist into the table to prop him up, "You could have been abducted by those two psychos and forced to do all kinds of bad things, but my partner is dead and if you don't start talking I'll make sure you never see the light of day again."

"You really need to work on your beside manor," I told him.

Henriksen chuckled dryly and pushed the file closer to me. It was a file on the Winchesters. There were reports about a bank robbery that had taken over, notes about places their fingerprints had shown up after horrific crimes, documents about how they had escaped custody after being arrested for a gruesome murder, even a few death certificates for them. They'd been busy. I flipped through the files until I found their mug shots, Sam looking worried while Dean looked smug. I could have smiled, not expecting anything less from either of them. What really caught my eye was the paperclip hooked onto the top of the page, keeping the mug shots in place.

"Corpse mutilations, torture, murder, bank robbery," Henriksen told me, "And that's just the start. They are Satan worshiping nut jobs. Are they really the kind of people you want to protect?"

"Yeah," I said, smiling sweetly at him, "And if you where smart, you'd let them out."

"Oh, real-" Henriksen started, but stopped and glanced at something behind me, "What the hell?"

I tilted my head back as far as I could to see thick, black smoke pouring out of the air vent behind me. I shot to my feet, pulling at the cuffs. The demon swirled around me, looking for a way in, its energy crackling and causing the hairs on my arms to stand on end. Unable to penetrate my anti-possession tattoo, the demon shoot away from me and down the throat of Hendrickson. I snatched up the paperclip and quickly unhooked myself.

I stumbled way from the demon, knocking over the chair. Hendrickson looked at me, his eyes consumed by the pitch black of the demon. I picked up my chair and threw it at him. The demon knocked it away with easy, and it crashed against the wall. A twisted smile stretched across the demon's lips, flashing a row of white teeth at me.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus. Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii-"

The demon launched across the table and shoved me backwards. The back of my head slammed against the wall, sending a wave of dizziness over me. I felt my knees start to give, but the demon held me up, pressing the palm of his hand to my mouth, "Sorry, baby girl, can't let you do that."

He grabbed me by my shirt and threw my across the room. I collided with the two-way mirror and it cracked form the impact, knocking the wind out of my lungs. I dropped to the ground, landing on my side and gasping for air. The Demon walked around the table to stand over me as I pushed myself into a seated position, leaning heavily on my arms to keep me up.

"Now, be a good little Van Helsing and stay put," the demon said, turning its head to look down at me, "She'll be here for you soon."

All I felt was fear as he brought back his leg and slammed it into my side. I doubled over in pain, unable to suck air into my lungs. Laughing, the demon left the room shutting the door behind him. I forced myself to my feet, it hurt like hell but it was enough to help me push through the fear. I rushed to the door and trying the handle but it was locked. I dashed back to the cuffs, snatching up the paper clip where I had dropped it and used it to pick the lock of the door. The click of the lock was enough to send a happy thrill through my body, and I threw open the door.

I ran from the interrogation room as another gunshot rang through the air. I picked up my pace, running toward the shouting. I slid through a doorway into the cell area just as Sam released Henriksen from drowning him in the toilet. Henriksen screamed, his back arching as the demon shoot out of his mouth and disappearing over our heads. Henriksen dropped to the floor, with his eyes closed and unmoving. I rushed around Nancy and pushed the deputy out of the way and stopped Sam and Dean's cell door.

The panic lessoned as I took in the sight of my boys, feeling safer in their presence. Sam was sitting on the floor, propped up against the bars and Dean was holding a gun with it pointed at Henriksen. On the floor with blood dripping from a gunshot wound to the head, was the sheriff. I swallowed hard and looked away from him. I liked him; he shouldn't have had to die.

"Is he dead?" Nancy asked softly, inching her way toward the cell to get a better look.

I certainly hoped he wasn't. I wanted to ask him if he remembered anything about what the demon had meant when he said she was coming for me. I needed to know when; I needed to know if she was the one causing this. More fear etched its way into my mind, and I stepped forward to press my fingers against Henriksen's throat. I found his pulse, beating strong.

Henriksen coughed, his eyes flying open and I jumped back. He looked around him wildly, trying to sit up. I gritted my teeth waiting to see what he would say or do. I wrapped my right arm around my stomach trying to get my elevated breathing back to normal and held on tightly to the bars with my left hand, digging my nails into the skin of my palms.

"Henriksen," Sam said cautiously, still sitting on the floor, "Is that you in there?"

Henriksen pulled himself off the floor, sitting down on the bed and slouched against the wall. The wildness that had been in his eyes turned to fear and then sorrow, "I, uh, I shot the sheriff."

Dean looked behind him to the sheriff and chuckled to himself, "But you didn't shot the deputy."

Sam shot Dean an annoyed look and Dean's smile turned to a grimace as he realized that was in poor taste. I looked at the pained look on Henriksen's face as it morphed into amazement first and then confusion.

"Five minutes ago I was fine, integrating True, and then-"

"You tried to throw me threw a window," I finished for him. My voice sounded far harsher then I meant it to and I took several deep breaths to regain control of my racing emotions.

"I'm sorry," Henriksen said sincerely, looking at the arm I still hard wrapped around me, "For, you know, doing that."

"It's cool," I said, waving my hand dismissively. Dean turned to look at me, his green eyes scanning me from head to toe and assessing the damage, his brows pulled together in concern. I avoided his gaze, afraid of what he could read on my face.

"You where possessed," Sam told Henriksen.

"Possessed, like _possessed_?" Henriksen said, trying to process this information. He was actually handling it very well, I was impressed.

"That's what it feels like," Sam said, the corners of his lips turning up knowingly, "Now you know."

"I owe you the biggest I-told-you-so ever," Dean chimed in before holding the gun out to Henriksen.

The agent took it, licking his lips and rising to his feet, "Officer Amici. Keys."

I stepped out of the way as Amici stepped forward and unhooked the keys from his belt, and handed them to Henriksen. He turned and uncuffed the boys, the chains clattering to the floor.

"All right," Henriksen said, standing tall as he faced Dean, "So how do we survive?"

"We'll need to fortify the building," Dean instructed, putting his hand on my shoulder to turn me and lead us out of the cell area, everyone trailing behind us. We all gathered in the main room. Dean took hold of my left hand and examined the red marks the cuffs had left on the back of my wrist. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, rolling my shoulders to lessen the strain on my bruised back and side, "I'm perfect."

Henriksen step beside us, "I, eh, the demon kicked her in the ribs."

I cleared my throat to glare at Henriksen, "I wasn't going to tell him that."

Dean scoffed, "Do need me to look at it?"

"Nooo," I said, "It wasn't that bad." When Dean opened his mouth to say something I quickly said, "You where shot, remember? We need a first aid kit over here!"

"I'll get you one," Nancy said, hurrying off.

"Hmm," I hummed, forcing myself to smiling broadly at Dean who shook his head.

Dean was quite, but he kept his eyes on me. I wanted to tell him about what the demon had told me, but there was no point to get anyone more worked up then they already where until I knew for sure. I just needed to get Henriksen alone and ask him, but there was no way to ask him without it looking suspicious.

"We'll need blueprints of the whole building," Sam said, looking around the room before turning to Amici, "One with every exit. And do you have any spray paint?"

Amici nodded, "Yeah, why?"

"Protection," Sam told him.

"This way," Amici said, leading Sam down a hallway.

Nancy returned with the first aid kit and Dean shrugged of his jacket. Nancy carefully rolled up his sleeve to reveal the bleeding hole in his shoulder and got to work bandaging his gunshot wound. I walked over to a nearby desk and edged myself on to it, rubbing my side as I did so.

"Um, the demon," Henriksen said, coming to lean against the desk next to me, "It called you Van Helsing."

"Thought you didn't care who I was," I joked, flashing him a smile.

Henriksen shrugged, "Things change."

I offered him my hand, "Arianna Tabitha Marie Van Helsing. But you can call me True."

"True Van Helsing?" Henriksen asked as he took my hand in his and shook it, before releasing it and turning to look at Dean, "She's kidding, right?"

"No," Dean said, shaking his head as glanced around Nancy to look at us, "She's the real deal."

"Guess I shouldn't run your finger prints then," Henriksen said, turning back to me.

"You wouldn't find anything even if you did," I told him before dropping my voice, "The demon, it said that _she_ was going to be here soon. Do you know who _she_ is?"

Henriksen considered this, "Another demon, I think. I don't really remember. Why?"

"Do you remember anything about her?" I asked, "If she was the reason the demons where here?"

Henriksen straightened, "I don't know."

I turned away from him, focusing on the ground. She was really coming. After all this time playing cat and mouse, the demon was finally going to rear its ugly head in my direction. It picked one hell of a time to do it, but it was better to get it over with now then continue waiting and feeling like I was being watched. Now I just had to tell the Winchesters.

Amici and Sam returned with a few cans of spray paint and the blue prints. Sam cleared off a desk and laid out the plans. Dean stood just as Nancy was about to wrap his arm in the gauze and walked over to examine the blueprints with Sam. Nancy followed after him, continuing with her job as Dean half sat on the table. Sam pointed at something on the blueprint, not having to say anything as he glanced at Dean who nodded.

Sam picked up two of the spray paint cans and walked over to me, holding them out, "Do you know how to make devils traps?"

"You're kidding, right?" I asked, snatching up the paint and sliding off the table, "You get the left, I'll get the right."

"Sounds good," Sam said walking back to get the other cans.

I did a quick glance over the blueprints to make sure I wouldn't miss any doors or windows as Sam walked over to get the front door. I glanced at Dean and his eyes met mine and I nodded to let him know I was glad he was okay, or that I was okay. Whichever way he took it. Either way he nodded back and turned back to the blueprints.

I walked from window to window and door to door, drawing my devils traps in each room. I found the evidence room and opened the bag containing my possessions and slipped them back safely into my pocket, pulling out a piece of gum and sticking it in my mouth as I grabbed Sam and Dean's belongs and left the room. The last room on my list was the lounge, so I slipped inside and placed the Winchesters belongings on a table I passed as I headed to the window. Shaking out my spray paint, I knelt down and got to work.

"I got some salt for you," Amici said as he walked into the room holding up a large bag of road salt.

"The way to any girl's heart," I said as I stood up, "Put it in front of the window, and don't smudge my paint."

"I know," Amici said, cutting into the bag as he pushed past me. He placed a chair carefully under the window and stood on top of it, dumping the salt on to the windows edge, "Dean told me."

I smiled up at him, "Dean told you not to smudge my paint?"

"No," Amici said with a shake his head, "I mean the salt-"

"I know," I teased, "I was kidding."

"Oh," Amici smiled slightly and the fear in his eyes lifted a bit.

I shook my head and returned to my devils trap. When was done I stepped back admiring my work. Amici lowered the bag of salt when he finished and looked down at my art as well. He lifted his head to look at me while he stepped off the chair, countless questions in his eyes, "Have you been doing this a while? Fighting demons?"

I clicked my tongue, "Pretty much."

Amici fell quite for a moment, "Can you stop them?"

I opened my mouth but was cut of my Dean yelling, "They're coming!"

A thick cloud of smoke slammed against the window, the salt keeping it from breaking through. It took over every inch of the glass, block the light form outside. Amici flinched away from the window, dropping the bag of salt as he moved behind me. His panicked breath hitched in his throat as he told hold of my arm, pulling me back. I watched in amaze horror as the whole building shook and the emergency lights flicked off, plunging us into complete darkness.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

I'd seen hordes of vampires, fought packs of werewolves, took on all manner of creatures and ghost, but I had never seen such a thick cloud of demon smoke. The sheer power of it crackled and rippled like a thunder storm, covering the building. I stood, frozen to the spot, speechless and unsure what to do next. I could fight anything, but you couldn't kill demons. Not without some serious fire power which we no longer had. I clenched and unclenched my jaw, shoving the fear into a box and burying that box as deep within me as I could.

The smoke lifted after several heartbeats and the lights from outside returned, I released a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding. I didn't have the chance to worry about where the smoke went. Amici pulled at my arm again and I turned and fallowed him from the lounge, snatching up Sam and Dean's stuff as I went. We joined the others in the main room and I took in everyone's worried and fearful faces. Thing were looking pretty bleak, even Sam and Dean looked nervous.

I don't know if it was more fear or nerves, but I didn't like the topsy-turvy way my stomach was feeling. It was one thing to prepare for something, another for it to be starring you in the face. Then again demons lie, so what's to say that the demon possessing Henriksen hadn't done just that? He's goal could have been to freak me out, which he did, and now I was stuck over thinking and stressing rather than focusing on the fact that we were in the middle of demon central.

I felt the box rattle and quickly buried it deeper. I took a breath in for five seconds, held it for seven, and then blew it out for eight more seconds just like Claire always did. Now was not the time to lose my calm. I squared my shoulders and turned my chin up, steeling myself as Dean rushed over to me.

He handed me one of his shotguns and a hand full of salt rock shells. I shook my head at his daring stupidity for risking his life to get the weapons and handed him the bag that contained his gun. I tossed Sam his bag before popping open the barrel of the shotgun, loading and cocking it. Stupid yes, but it felt good to have a useful weapon in my hands.

"Everybody okay?" Sam asked the group, looking at everyone in turn. He had his own shotgun in hand, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he took shallow breaths. I found something kind of reassuring that I wasn't the only one afraid, other than the civilians.

"Define okay," Henriksen said, glancing at Sam.

"Alive," I offered, trying not to imaging what it would have been like if the smoke had been able to get inside the building.

Dean walked past me, his jacket brushing against mine enough to bring me out of my thoughts. He placed his duffle bag on the table, unzipping it. I watched his deliberate movements, the way he favored his left side as he dug around in his bag. He glanced at me and my breathing slowed, remembering that I wasn't alone. I turned my attention to Sam as he walked over to join Dean by the table and started counting out the salt rock shells.

Dean pulled out a little bag from his duffle, "Alright, everyone needs to put these on. They'll keep you from being possessed."

Dean started to hand out what looked like necklaces with little talisman on them, presumable anti-possession sigils. Everyone put them on as Dean turned to me and held up one of the necklaces. I waved him off.

"I know it's not gonna match your outfit but put on the damn necklace, True," Dean ordered, dangling the necklaces in front of my face.

I pursed my lips at him, fighting back my smile, "It's not about fashion, Dean. You wear it."

"Are you okay?" Dean asked suddenly, his brows pulling together. He did a quick once over before his eyes settled back on mine.

The genuine look of concern in his eyes threw me off and I wondered what expression I wore on my face. I stumbled to think of a response, "I-"

"What about you and Sam?" Nancy asked, cutting me off.

Dean turned around to face her, in unison he and Sam pulled down the collar their shirts to reveal the anti-possession tattoos on the left side of their chest. Thiers where bigger than mine by at least an inch, but other than that they were exactly the same. Dean fixed his shirt and held the necklace up to me again. I smirked at him and pulled up the hem of my shirt to reveal my own tattoo on my hip. Dean made a little _O_ shape with his mouth, looking at my hip with a tilt of his head.

"Great mind think alike," I said to Dean. My heart beat raced again as his eyes trailed up my body to meet mine and heat spread across my face. Time seemed to slow and fade and for a moment I forgot what we were talking about.

"Smart," Henriksen said breaking the spell Dean had put me under. We turned to face him, "How long have you had those?"

"Not long enough," Sam said, pulling his shirt back into place.

Sam turned and walked to the far wall were the coppers had pinned up several wanted posters. There was something in the look that Sam gave Henriksen, and undertone that he knew all too well the hazards of not being properly protected from demons. It was yet another thing I would have to ask them about if we lived through this.

"Since I was about eighteen," I said vaguely, trying to imagine which brother had been possessed.

"That's a very provocative place for a tattoo," Dean told me, drawing me back in.

"Well, it was either there or on my ass," I grinned at him.

Dean smiled and snatched up his duffle, walking into the sheriff's office to prepare for battle and leaving me alone with my thoughts. I was about to head after him, but Henriksen walked in first. So instead I remained where I was, fidgeting with the shotgun and looked around. Amici had gone on a perimeter check, Sam busied himself with the wanted photos, and Nancy was straightening the salt bags by the front door.

I walked over to Sam and tapped him on the shoulder, when he turned to face me I smiled up at him, "Hey, Sammy."

"Hey, _Shorty_ ," Sam said, a smile playing on his lips, "What's up?"

"When you fought Azazel," I said in a whisper so that Nancy wouldn't eavesdrop on our conversation, "Where you scared?"

"Look, I know things look dark, but we'll figure this out," Sam reassured me, but he didn't sound all that confident in what he was saying.

I smiled at his attempt all the same, "Thanks, but that didn't answer my question."

"Hey, that's Jenna Rubner," Nancy said suddenly, snagging our attention.

Sam and I walked over to join her, looking out the windows as a young woman in plaid with shoulder length hair stepped forward from a crowed of demons. She had a crooked half smile on her lips and she stood tall, clearly the leader of the pack. I tightened my grip on the shotgun.

"It's not Jenna anymore," Sam said from behind me.

"That's where all that black demon smoke went?" Nancy asked.

"Yeah," I said softly, trying to count the heads of the group but they kept moving.

The sound of breaking glass shattered the silence. Sam turned and bolted down the hallway, I ran after him with Nancy hot on my heels. Down the hall Dean and Henriksen rushed through the door that led to the lounge with their guns raised and Sam went in after them. I slowed down as I turned into the door, stopping by Dean who was just inside the room. I groaned inwardly when I saw Ruby was standing in my devils trap, panting heavily as she glared at us, demon killing knife in hand.

"How do we kill her?" Henriksen asked, rising his shot gun. I bit down on my cheek to keep from answering.

"We don't," Sam said, placing his hand on Henriksen's shotgun and lowering it.

"She's a demon," Henriksen said. I had to side with the agent on this one, nothing good ever came when demons where involved. That's why they were demons.

"She's here to help us," Sam told him.

"Are you kidding?" Amici asked, but no one answered him.

Sam walked over to Ruby, watching her closely. I gripped my gun tighter, debating if we could kill her before Sam could throw a hissy fit. I glanced at Dean; he was eyeing Ruby with a similar look to my own. Dean turned his eyes to me, and heaved a sigh. He was right. She may be a demon, but we needed her. I grinded my teeth together and turned back to Sam and Ruby, lowering my shotgun.

"Are you gonna let me out?" Ruby demanded. Sam pulled out his knife and knelt forward, scratching at the paint with the sharp edge and straightened. "And they say chivalry's dead. Anyone have a breath mint? Some guts splattered in my mouth while I was killing my way in here."

Ruby's boots clacked on the floor as she walked past us. I blew a bubble at her and popped it with me teeth before chewing it loudly. She glowered, but didn't stop. Dean dropped his head and followed after her and the rest of us followed him.

"How many are out there?" Dean asked her as we walked back to the main room.

I leaned against the door frame of the sheriff's office with Nancy on my right, who leaned against the filing cabinet next to the wall, and Sam who fidgeted with his shot gun on my left. Amici walked to the other side of Sam and Henriksen slipped past me and Sam to lean against the desk behind Dean.

"Thirty at least," Ruby said as she sat against one of the desk, leaning back on her hands, "That's so far."

"Oh, good. Thirty," Dean snapped with mock enthusiasm, pacing in a tight circle before turning back to Ruby, "Thirty hit men all gunning for us. Who sent them?"

Ruby turned her head to look at Sam, "You didn't tell Dean? Wow, I'm surprised."

"Tell me what?" Dean demanded.

I looked at Sam, wanting to know just as bad as Dean. Sam clenched his jaw, averting his gaze so he didn't have to look at any of the curious eyes in the room. It was at times like these I wished I was psychic so I could know what dark secrets he was keeping hidden deep within his brain.

"There's a big new up-and-comer," Ruby went on smoothly, "A real pied piper."

"Who is he?" Dean asked, glancing back and forth between his brother and the demon.

"Not he," Ruby said, turning her cold eyes to Dean, "Her. Her name is Lilith."

"Lilith?" Dean asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

I felt my mouth drop open as I stared at Ruby. I pushed past Sam to stand in front of her, "Lilith? Like first wife of Adam, _Lilith_?"

Lilith, no matter what religion you believed, was one of the worse demons there was. According to the legends she was a murder of infants and children, succubus of man with her lustful ways, all around hag of the night, and that was barely scratching the surface. Though her story had changed and morphed over time, she sure as hell wasn't a demon I wanted to meet.

"Well, score one point for the Van Helsing," Ruby said, looking at me haughtily. "You brushed up on your history."

"And she's coming here?" I demanded.

"And she really, really wants Sam's intestines on a stick," Ruby said with mock concern, "Guess she sees him as competition."

My blood pounded in my ears, my body on the way to a full blown panic attack. I wanted to deny it, but it was just too much of a coincidence that Lilith was a she and that she was the demon who was coming here. A demon that was powerful enough to obliterate the Van Helsing bloodline. Of course I could just be crazy. There where countless demons that could be mine, some with worse rap sheets then Lilith.

I chewed on my lip trying to remember if I had ever heard anyone in the Circle mention the demons name, but I couldn't think of anything. If my demon and Lilith where one in the same it would explain why she hadn't come for me, too busy leading the army herself. And trying to kill Sam, and how she was able to send lesser demons after me. It was like all the dominos where falling into place, but it still didn't feel real.

"You knew about this?" Dean asked Sam. Sam didn't respond, just adverted his gaze so he didn't have to see the disappointment and betrayal on his brothers face, "Well, jeez, Sam. Is there anything else I should know?"

"Could we fight later, please?" I snapped.

"She's right," Ruby agreed, "The only way to stop her is with the Colt."

"Of course," I muttered, rolling my eyes. I wondered over to one of the desk that was out of the way. I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against it. I dug my finger nails in to my arm, cursing Bela's name, "This just keeps getting better and better."

"What is she talking about?" Ruby demanded looking at Dean and then Sam, "Where's the Colt?"

"It got stolen," Sam told her solemnly.

"I'm sorry, I must have blood in my ear," Ruby snapped, "I thought I heard you say you were stupid enough to let the Colt get grabbed out of your thick, clumsy, idiotic hands."

Dean raised his eyebrows, insulted, and tuned to look at Sam. Sam looked withdrawn, even a little angry. I took a deep breath, fighting the urge to walk over and punch the demon in her taunt little face.

"Fantastic," Ruby hissed, pushing away from the desk and walking toward the wall, "This is just peachy."

"Ruby-" Sam stated, but the demon raised her hand to silence him.

"Shut up," Ruby snapped, she turned around to face us, "Fine. Since I don't see that there's any other option, there's one other way I know how to get you out of here alive."

"What's that?" Dean asked.

"I know a spell," Ruby said, "It will vaporize every demon in a one-mile radius. Myself included. So you let the Colt out of your sight and now I have to die."

"I'm sure we're all real broken up about it, too," I muttered.

"Next time, be more careful," Ruby scorned us, glaring at me before turning her gaze to Sam, "How's that for a dying wish?"

"Okay," Dean said, standing up and ready to get this moving. I knew he wasn't going to be broken up about Ruby's death, either, "What do we need to do?"

"Aw," Ruby said sweetly, "You can't do anything. This spell is very specific. It calls for a person of virtue."

"I got virtue," Dean offered.

"Nice try," Ruby laughed, "You're not a virgin."

"Nobody's a virgin," Dean chuckled, looking around at the people in the room before turning back to Ruby. She turned to look in Nancy's direction and everyone's eyes turned with her.

"No way," Dean said, sounding honestly surprised as he focused on Nancy, "You're kidding me. You're-"

"What?" Nancy demanded, folding her arms over her chest defensively, "It's a choice, okay?"

"There's nothing wrong with that," I said, unable to help the smile that spread across my face. Pride caused my chest to swell and I could have hugged her. I regretted my first time and I was beyond amazed that she had chosen to wait for the right time.

"What, so you-" Dean stammered, "You never-? Not even once? I mean, not even…? Wow."

"So the spell," Nancy asked Ruby, eager to help and move on from this topic, "What can I do?"

"You can hold still," Ruby said, walking toward her, "While I cut your heart out of your chest."

"What?" Nancy asked, pushing off of the filing cabinet.

"Whoa," I said, moving so I was standing beside Nancy and holding up my hand to prevent Ruby from getting any closer to her. Ruby turned her eyes to me and I tilted my head to the side, just begging for her to start something. I was prepared to fight Ruby to the death.

"What, are you crazy?" Dean demanded.

"I'm offering a solution," Ruby snapped, turning on Dean.

I took her distraction to move closer to Nancy. I smiled at her, rubbing her arm to reassure her that nothing was going to happen to her. Her sweet and innocents kind of reminded me of Claire, and I suddenly missed her horribly. I'd have to call her if I ever got out of here.

"You're offering to kill somebody," Dean snapped.

"What do you think is gonna happen to this girl when the demons get in?" Ruby demanded.

"We're going to protect her, that's what," Henriksen said.

"Very noble," Ruby sneered at him.

"Excuse me?" Nancy said in her soft tone. I glanced at her, catching the fear in her eyes, but more than that, the determination behind it.

"You're all gonna die," Ruby argued, not hearing Nancy over everyone's arguing, "This is the only way."

"Yeah, there's no way that you're gonna prove-" Dean started.

"Everyone please shut up!" Nancy shouted, getting everyone's attention. She focused on Ruby, "All the people out there… will it save them?"

"It'll blow the demons out of their bodies," Ruby said softly, "So if their bodies are okay, yeah."

Ruby and Nancy stared off for a moment then Nancy nodded, "I'll do it."

"Nancy," I cautioned her. I took her hand, squeezing it, "You don't have to sacrifice yourself."

"All my friends are out there," Nancy said her mind already made up.

"We don't sacrifice people," Henriksen said, "We do that, we're no better than them."

I was starting to like him more and more. I had been too quick to judge him when we had first met, just like he was to the Winchesters and I, but anyone with that kind of attitude was okay in my book.

"We don't have a choice," Ruby said.

"Well, your choice is not a choice," Dean snapped.

"Sam," Ruby said, turning her gaze on him for the tie breaker. "You know I'm right."

"Sam?" Dean chuckled dryly. When Sam remained silent, Dean's expression turned hard, "What the hell is going on? Sam, tell her."

"It's my decision," Nancy said. She squeezed my hand, but it didn't stop the fear from causing her voice to shake.

"Damn straight, cherry pie," Ruby said, smiling smugly.

"Stop," Dean yelled, "Nobody kill any virgins. Sam, I need to talk to you."

Sam turned and started walking. As Dean passed he motioned me to follow them. I gave Nancy's hand one last squeeze before letting it go and tagged along behind Dean with Sam at my side. We walked down the nearest hallway until we were out of ear shot of the others. Dean rounded on Sam.

"Please tell me you're not considering this," Dean said, his voice full of frustration, "We're talking about holding down a girl and cutting out her heart."

"We're also talking about thirty people out there, Dean," Sam argued, "Innocent people who are all gonna die, along with everyone in here."

"It doesn't mean that we throw away the rule book and stop acting like humans," Dean snapped, "I'm not gonna let that demon kill some nice, sweet, innocent girl who hasn't even been laid. If that's how you win wars, I don't wanna win."

Sam turned to me, "What do you think?"

Dean turned his eyes to me expectantly. I sighed, "You both have valid points, but there has got to be away to save everyone."

"That bullshit," Sam said, "Even you're scared, True. I can see it in your eyes."

"Of course she's scared," Dean snapped, "But it still not going to happen."

"Guys, just calm down," I yelled as Sam took a deep breath, open his mouth to yell a retort back at Dean, "I am sure that we haven't thought of everything."

"Like what?" Sam demanded, "What do we do?"

Dean shook his head and looked around us. He was quite for a second before say, "I gotta plan. I'm not saying it's a good one, not saying that it'll work but it sure beats killing a virgin."

"Okay, so, what's the plan?" Sam asked, open to hear it.

"Open the doors," Dean said completely serious, "Let them all in. And we fight."

"How is that a plan?" I demanded, "We can't exorcise them all at once and we can't kill them."

Sam shook his head thinking, "Maybe we could."

He turned on his heels and rushed down the hallway. Dean and I flanked either side of him and I asked, "Kill them or exorcise them?"

"We record and play an exorcism over the loud speakers once we have all the demons inside," Sam explained.

"Awesome," Dean said, "How do we keep them inside once it starts playing. I mean, what's going to keep them from running?"

"Salt," I offered, "We have someone salt the doors once the demons are inside."

"No, that wouldn't work. The demons would attack them as soon as they saw them," Sam said.

"Not if they don't see them," Dean said, stopping to point at the ceiling, "We'll have someone wait on the roof until all the demons come in, then they can salt the doors behind them."

"That's what I'm talking about," I said, slapping Sam on the shoulder, "Now this is a plan, yeah?"

Sam pursed his lips, not voicing the doubt he was clearly thinking. So we split up, Sam disappearing into the sheriff's office to do the recording, and Dean and I went back to the main room to let everyone else in on the plan. They all agreed. Nancy and Amici would be the ones to salt the doors, Henriksen would start the exorcisms, and the rest of us would distract the demons. Ruby didn't seem please; she slid onto a desk and pouted. As much as it killed me to say it, I didn't blame her. It really was a crazy ass plan, but at least it was a chance to try and save everyone.

I walked over to stand beside Ruby while Dean and Henriksen talked out the minor details of the plan. She leered up at me, her face a question mark. I sighed, "Do you know what demon is trying to kill me?"

"You mean, is it Lilith?" Ruby asked, her tone becoming softer as if she were truly concerned about me. I nodded, "It's not."

"How do you know?" I asked.

"I hear things," Ruby shrugged, "Doesn't mean Lilith won't kill you when she gets here."

"Of course not," I ground my teeth together, debating rather or not I was happy about this new development. If it wasn't Lilith then who was it? "Do you know her name?"

"She's called Werzelya," Ruby said, her response surprisingly candid. I rattled my brain for who that demon was, but came up empty. Ruby must have realized I had no clue who she was talking about because she went on, "I'm not surprised you haven't heard of her. She wasn't much until she killed you're family."

"And now she's a big shot?" I asked, distain coloring my tone.

"Something like that," Ruby said.

"What else can you tell me about her?" I asked.

Ruby smiled, it was a twisted thing like only a demon could have and I knew she was done talking. It irritated me, but she gave me enough to go on that I could find out the rest on my own. I gave Ruby my own sickly sweet smile and walked away from her, my mind buzzing. I knew the demon's name. I was one step closer to ending this.

"Get the equipment to work?" Dean asked. I glanced up to see Sam walking out of the sheriff's office.

"Yeah," Sam said, he almost sounded reluctant.

"So?" Dean asked when Sam didn't say anything else.

"So this is insane," Sam said.

"You win understatement of the year," Ruby told him.

"Look, I get it," Dean snapped at her, "You think-"

"I don't think," Ruby said, cutting him off, "I know. It's not gonna work."

"At least it's something," I snapped, "Don't be such a Debbie downer."

Ruby snorted. Standing up, she pushed past Sam and Dean, "So long, kids."

"So you're just gonna leave?" Sam demanded.

"Hey," Ruby said, rounding on him, "I was gonna kill myself to help you win. I'm not gonna stand here and watch you lose."

Couldn't fault her for that, but I couldn't help to think that she was leaving to save her own ass. If she did stick around she'd just end up getting sent back to hell. We wouldn't want that, would we?

"And I'm disappointed," Ruby said, her boots clacking on the floor again as she walked toward Sam, "Because I tried. I really did. But clearly, I bet on the wrong horse. Do you mind letting me out?"

Sam led Ruby away, heading for the back entranced. I watched them leave, relieved that she was gone. That was one last demon we had to worry about, just thirty more to go.

"You ready for this?" Dean asked me.

I shrugged, "It is a ghastly idea."

"It's better than sacrificing virgins," Dean said and scoffed, shaking his head.

"I'm never calling you cherry pie again," I told Dean, earning me one of his smiles.

"Wouldn't dream of it, bluebird," Dean said, earning an eyebrow raise from me.

"Bluebird?" I asked, "Like that dainty little, you know, bird?"

"We should get ready," Dean said rather than answering my question.

"You're probably right, pigeon," I said, smirking at him.

We moved to our predetermined entrances and waited to give Nancy and Amici time to get safely on to the roof. I was at one of the side doors and I knelt down and dusted the Salt out of the way before throwing open the door. It swung and smashed against the building, bouncing off with enough force that I had to throw out my hand to stop it from closing.

"All set?" Dean yelled loud enough for us all to hear.

"Yeah," Sam's voice came first, followed by Henriksen's, "Ready."

"Same," I hollered out.

I knelt down and pulled out my pocket knife, scratching at the devils trap beneath my feet. Once enough of it was scratched away I stood up and took several steps back, cocking my shotgun. I waited, holding my gun at the ready, for seconds that seemed to stretch on forever. A demon came rushing in and I shot her, inching my way backwards as I cocked my gun and fired at another demon. Several more gun shots rang out behind me and I moved in deeper, leading the demons to the middle of the building.

"Go, go, go," I head Dean yelling.

A demon ran at me, I ran at the wall. Launching off of it, I spun and kicked the demon away from me. I landed on the ground and rolled onto my knee, lifted my gun and fired at another demon. I pushed to my feet and round house kicked another demon as I popped open my gun and started to reload, digging in my pocket for another bullet. I slid the shells into place and snapped the barrel of the gun closed as demon grabbed me by my shirt.

He whipped me against one wall of the hallway before slamming me against the other wall, pinning me there. The gun slipped from my hand, clattering to the floor. I took hold of the demon's arm and placed my foot on his knee and pushed myself up the wall, giving me a clear shot to bring my elbow down on the top of his head. His grip loosened, giving me enough room to slide my other leg around his shoulder and spin over his shoulders with enough force to flip him around and send us both to the ground. I rolled away from him when we hit the ground, landing in a crouch.

I launched myself along the aluminum to where the shotgun had landed. I snatched it up, spinning onto my back just as another demon approached me. I pulled the trigger and the body went flying backwards. I scrambled back to my feet, backing up as I pointed my gun and shot another body. I was too focused on reloading my gun to novice the demon behind me. She took hold of my arm and spun us around and threw me over a nearby desk.

I slid across it and dropped to the other side. My back slammed against the ground, knocking the air out of my lungs and my shotgun slipping from my grasp again. I gasped, struggling to get up when a demon landed on top of me and landed a punch across my face. Pain shot across my cheek and I tasted blood in my mouth. I swallowed it down just as she swung again.

I was prepared this time and managed to block the hit, knocking her arm to the side. I wrapped my right leg around the leg of the demon, and then hooked my arm over its shoulder. With as much force as I could muster, I rolled us to the side so that I was now on top and swung a few of my own punches before I got back to my feet.

Countless more demons descended on me. I ducked the punch of one, spinning to the side and elbowing another in the face but missing the punch of another. My face burned from the hit and before I could recover another demon grabbed me by my hair and yanked me toward her before throwing me into the wall. The force of the toss caused me to stumble, my ankle twisted underneath me and I fell to the ground.

I struggled to my feet as simultaneous screams came from the demons. I looked around to see Sam and Dean had pulled out there holy water and was splashing it at the demons. I did the same, twisting of the lid just as another group of demons reached me. I hobbled away from them, whipping my arm back and forth to bombard them with the water. The demons sizzled, flinching away from me in pain. I continued to drench them until I ran out of holy water.

The demons circled around me but stood back, their cold black eyes watching me. The one Nancy called Jenna popped up onto one of the tables before dropping back to the ground and walking toward Sam who was standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by demons. Behind him was Dean, standing with his back to the wall. Jenna walked up to Sam and held out her hand and both Winchesters flew backwards, slamming into the wall.

I staggered forward to help them, but Jenna spun around. Holding up her other arm, palm toward me, I flew backwards and slammed into the wall. I groaned in pain, the tips of my toes barley brushing the ground.

"Henriksen, now!" Dean managed to yell.

A few seconds later Sam's familiar voice filled the building as his recording started reciting the exorcism. The demons started shouting and scattered. Some running for the exits while others started tweaking out by shaking their head and trying to cover their ears. As the recoding reached its final lines, the demons throw back their heads and screamed.

The black smoke left the victims and filling the ceiling above our heads in a massive black and purple cloud. The smoke swirled, the demonic energy crackling as bodies begun to fall once rid of their demonic parasite. The recoding hit the last line and the smoke erupted into fire and exploded.

Whatever force we keeping me pinned to the wall vanished and I dropped. Pain shot through my twisted ankle and it gave, causing me to fall face first to the ground. I managed to catch myself before my head collided with the aluminum and rolled onto my back. I stayed right where I was even after the lights flickered back on. The human host started to stir, moaning. I twisted my head around to look at them.

It was truly something to see them rolling onto the backs or attempting to push themselves to their feet. A few lay unconscious, or at least that was what I hoped, but other than that they all looked to be okay. I beamed at them. We couldn't have asked for a better ending then this.

Dean walked over to me and offered his hand. I took it and let him pull me into a seated position. He slid his hands under my arms and pulled me to my feet, his face pained due to the pressure it caused his injured arm. I balanced myself on my good foot, leaning heavily on Dean as he walked me over to a desk so I could sit down.

"You good?" Dean asked.

I smiled at him and nodded, "Always, seagull."

Dean pursed his lips at me, but there was amusement in his eyes, "You are not calling me seagull."

I shrugged, "No, harm in trying it out."

Dean shook his head and left me to start checking on the confused group of people. Sam went and got Nancy and Amici who started to help the staggering ex-demon vessels to their feet. Henriksen checked on me once before organizing places for everyone to go to get the medical attention they needed. Once everyone was situated, Sam and Dean gathered all their weapons and started reloading their duffle bag at the desk beside mine. Henriksen walked over to us, looking pleased.

"I better call in," Henriksen said to the Winchesters, "Hell of a story I won't be telling."

"So, what are you gonna tell them?" Sam asked.

"The least ridiculous lie I can come up with in the next five minutes," Henriksen said.

"Good luck with that," Dean scoffed, "Not to pressure you or anything but what're you planning to do about us?"

"I'm gonna kill you," Henriksen said with a straight face. We all turned to look at him, wide eyed, "Sam and Dean Winchester were in the chopper when it caught on fire. Nothing's left. Can't even identify them with dental records. Rest in peace, guys."

I breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at him. Sam chuckled; both the Winchesters looked at Henriksen with appreciative looks. Sam turned to him and held out his hand, which Henriksen took and shook firmly. The agent turned to Dean and they shook hands as well. Henriksen then turned to me offering me his hand. I shook it, my smile growing.

"Now get out of here," Henriksen said.

"Yeah," Sam said softly.

I clapped my hands then rubbed them together, more than ready to be elsewhere, before sliding of the desk and wincing when I landed on my twisted ankle. Sam handed the weapon's bag to Dean who slid it over his good shoulder and walked over to me.

"Here," He said, turning his back to me and crouching low, "Hope you're not too old for a piggyback ride."

"Never," I giggled, placing my hands on his shoulder.

I jumped up as best I could, but Sam was fast and caught my legs and tucked his arms under the back of my knees. Holding me in place, I draped my arms over his shoulders, resting my head against my arm as we left the police station. It was a short distance to the Impala, and I was glad to see the familiar black car twinkling at me in the light of the lamppost surrounding the impound lot.

Sam let me off his shoulders, opening the car door for me so I could slide inside. I scooted to the middle again, sliding down so I could rest my head against the seat. The engine road to life and the whole car vibrated reassuringly, it almost feeling happy to have us back safely within its metal frame. My head lobbed to one side, and I closed my eyes.

Nothing about this night had turned out the way we had planned. Bela had gotten away with the Colt, and my supposed demon hadn't reared its ugly head. After always thinking that I just wanted to get it over with, end this fight, I realized in those moments as we left town that I was glad. I just wanted to stay alive. I wanted to be as far from her as possible. If she was standing right in front of me I'd fight, but until then I'd run.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

The ride out of Colorado had only lasted a little over three hours, long enough for the sun to start to rise, but it felt like it last a lifetime. My mind had been on high alert and every bump that caused the Impala to shake reminded me of the massive demon cloud that had struck the police station and my body would tense. I had this over whelming feeling that we were being fallowed, but when I had peeked out the back window I saw no other cars on the highway. Eventually the adrenalin wore off and reality set in.

We'd done well, we'd survived, and I was back within the safely of the Impala with Sam and Dean in the front seat and 80's rock drifting from the stereo. I was exhausted, ready to just let it the night be over and sleep. No position I tried to maneuver myself into in the back seat was comfortable and the unbearable silence coming from the front was just as profound.

Dean kept his eyes forward and Sam would turn to Dean and opening his mouth like he was going to say something, but thinking better of it he remained silent. I did the same, not sure how to start that conversation without sending them into a full blown argument. I was too tired for that. It was like a godsend when Dean had decided that we had put enough distance between us that we could stop. I didn't have the energy to fight with Dean when he announced he had only gotten one room, so I resigned to my fate of sharing.

Sam and Dean had insisted that I showered first, and the idea was so appealing that I didn't argue. I had wanted to be alone, but now that I was there was nothing to stop my thoughts from taking over. The events of the night twisted within my mind, playing over and over again, ruining what should have been an amazing shower that washed away everything. After only five minutes I shut off the water and stepped out. Drying off and dressing in an oversized t-shirt with the cartoon ninja turtles on the front and a pair of white pajama shorts.

I balance as much weight as I could on one foot, without the support of my boot my ankle throbbed and pulsed with pain but I ignored it. I brushed out my hair like a zombie, causing the scent of the cheap hotel shampoo to fill my nose. The longer I stood there, looking into my own reflection in the mirror without really seeing myself, the more I felt old wounds begin to fester. The throbbing of my swollen ankle was matched by the pounding of the pain in my chest.

It was almost a relief to know Werzelya's name, like starting the final chapter of a book you've waited your whole life to finish. Though, I supposed I'd been on this chapter a while. It was a horrible kind of feeling, knowing the end was coming. Nothing you did truly ever prepared you for when the moment actually happened. A small voice inside my head told me that I should be trying to avenge my family, but what good was revenge? It wouldn't bring them back.

I lowered myself onto the edge of the bath, feeling the loss of them all over again. I craved to hear Echo's voice, to know that I wasn't alone. If she were here she would have slapped me, giving me the all too familiar look of a disappointed parent. She would have a plan to find Werzelya and bring the long overdue justice to our family. As much as I wanted that, the truth is that what I wanted was a bit more of the smaller picture now. We were at war.

I turned my gaze to my ankle and examined it. The skin around my fibula bone was red with some slight bruising, and it was twice the size it should have been. I gritted my teeth and flexed and extended my ankle despite how much it hurt to make sure nothing was broken. A few weeks and I'd be as good as new. I stood back up, readying myself to face the boys. With one last fleeting look at my reflection I limped out of the bathroom, pulling my hair into a high ponytail.

Sam and Dean sat quietly on either side of the room, a pile of clothes by each of them as they waited for their turn in the shower. They weren't looking at each other and I wondered if they had talked about what had happened, about how Sam knew about Lilith.

"Took you long enough," Dean muttered.

"I just like making you wait," I replied, trying not to yawn. My eyes fell on the bed and I longed to lay my head upon the pillow.

"You go next," Sam said softly, glance at his brother, "So we can get you shoulder taken care of."

Dean pursed his lips and remained silent as he gathered up his clothes and walked across the room. He paused for the slightest of moments before I stepped aside and he disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. I wobbled to the bed farthest from the bathroom, the one Sam wasn't sitting on, and collapsing onto the bed.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I took the weight of my sprained ankle and scooted up so that I was propped up against the headboard. I pulled the pillows out from behind me and placed them neatly a legs width away and put my twisted ankle on top of the pile. I relaxed against the headboard, keeping my leg elevated which helped a bit with the pain.

Sam stood up and pulled his bag off the floor. I watched him with heavy eyelids as he dug around inside before pulling out an ankle wrap and walking over to sit on the bed by my foot. He took my ankle gingerly in his hand and looked it over.

"It's not that bad," Sam said, coming to the same conclusion I had, "You'll be fine."

I smiled and he begun to wrap the bandage around my ankle, lifting it to make it easier. He moved my ankle at an odd angel and pain shot up my leg. I winched, my body jerking up of its own accord as I pressed my palm into my leg to keep it still. My body tensed as Sam continued to maneuver my foot and I pressed my lips together to keep from gasping out loud.

"Sorry," Sam muttered, shooting me one of his signature worried glances.

"It's okay, Sammy, I can take it," I said, forcing myself to loosen up.

Once he finished with bandaging me up, Sam sat my foot back against the pillows and patted my leg before standing, "I'm gonna get you some ice to bring down the swelling."

"While you do that," I said, leaning back against the headboard, "Can I borrow your computer?"

"Yeah," Sam said as he walked over to his bed. He grabbed his computer bag and opened it, pulling out his laptop and handing it to me, "Here you go."

"Thanks, sugar," I said, balancing the computer on my lap and opening it.

Sam snatched up the ice bucket and left the room. I held my finger on the ON button until the screen lit up. I opened a fresh browser page and typed Werzelya in the search bar. Ruby was right; I couldn't find much on the demon. What I did dig up was small, and not really useful. Just general facts, like she was an evil fanatic who cut off her daughters head and drank her blood before being murdered by her saint of a brother. The evil bitch got what was coming to her when she was deported for a few tours in hell. Now she was back, doing what demons do.

I glanced up from the computer when to door to the hotel opened and Sam strolled back in. Sam paused eyeing me closely, "What's wrong?"

I shrugged, "What do you mean?"

"You're grinding your teeth together," Sam said, "You do that when you're annoyed."

I opened my mouth just as the bathroom door swung open and a newly clean Dean emerged in a puff of steam. He'd put on a clean pair of jeans and a loose fitted grey shirt. His hair was still damp and stuck out in odd angles on top of his head and his feet were bare. The sight of him sent my heart into over drive but I quickly dismissed the feelings bubbling up within me.

"Do you guys even own pajamas?" I asked, glancing back and forth between the brothers, "I don't think I've ever seen you in anything but jeans."

"No," Dean said simple before nodding at my ankle, "You gonna be okay?"

"I'm always going to be okay," I smiled, "At least I wasn't shot."

Dean paused long enough to shoot me an eye roll. I smirked at him, happy to get a teasing reaction and lighten the mood. I hadn't really had the time to be happy that they were both okay, that I was okay. We were fine, safe. Something I felt we wouldn't be having much of in the future.

"Why are you on Sam computer?" Dean asked.

"Because I don't have one and yours has been infected with porn," I muttered, smirking at him again. Sam snorted and tried to cover it with a cough.

Dean pursed his lips to hide his smile and shrugged, "Fair enough."

I laughed at him and turned back to the computer. Dean and Sam begun avoiding each other again, Sam walking over to grab a hand towel from the bathroom and rapped a hand full of ice inside of it before placing it on my ankle. At first I couldn't feel the ice through the cloth, but as it started to melt the cold water dripped down my ankle onto the pillow. It was a good kind of uncomfortable and soon my leg was numb.

Sam turned to face his brother, "We should change your bandages."

Dean nodded his head, "Yeah, okay."

Sam gathered up some fresh bandages and Dean sat at the edge of my bed. Slipping his shirt over his head he grimaced at the pain in his shoulder. I turned my gaze back to the compute, trying to reread in information on the web page but my eyes wondered back to his bare torso. I watched Sam expertly take the bandaged off of Dean's shoulder, which he had kept pretty dry during his shower, and started rewrapping it.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked suddenly.

"What?" I blinked, taken aback by being caught in the act of stare at him.

"You're grinding your teeth again," Sam informed me.

"It's creepy that you guys watch me close enough to know that," I muttered, pretty sure I wasn't grinding my teeth because I was upset. Not being able to tell them that, I answered with what was really bothering me, "Ruby told me the name of the demon hunting me."

"When were you planning on telling m-us this?" Dean demanded, his voice rising. He pushed away Sam's hands so he could turn and face me.

"Eventually!" I yelled back, "I don't know if you noticed, but we got a little busy."

"First Sam and now you! How could you be so stupid, True?" Dean snapped, standing and pacing back and forth at the foot of my bed, "Do you have any idea how dan-"

"I swear to God if you say dangerous, I will leap off this bed and kick you in the groin," I warned. It was enough to make Dean stutter for something to say so I pushed on, "I wasn't keeping it from you guys on purpose, Dean. I was going to tell you."

Dean let out a dry chuckle, his nostrils flaring as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. Time seemed to stop before he gritted out, "What did you find out?"

"Not much," I said, launching into everything Ruby had told me and what I had found online.

"So she was a nothing?" Dean scoffed, running his hand through his hair before scratching the back of his head.

"I know, and on behave of my family I'm insulted," I snapped, not at him but at the whole situation.

Here we where, a family of legendary hunters, reduced to nothing by a demon who only had one webpage dedicated to her. It didn't speak much for our legacy, so either Ruby was lying or Werzelya had help. Both were very likely and both pissed me off more. I slammed the lid of Sam's laptop shut with a little too much force and shoved it away from me.

"It's just experience," Sam said as if knowing exactly what I had been thinking, "There are probably countless demons that don't have little too no information on them. This demon died years before she killed your family. She's still a demon."

Amazingly enough, what he said didn't make me feel any better. Nobody or not, she was important enough to be recruited by Lilith.

"What do you want to do?" Dean asked.

"Nothing I can do," I said simply, reaching over and snatching up the hotels landline, "Except call Echo."

"Is that such a good idea?" Dean asked, "The more she knows the closer she could come to finding out about Sam."

"I can't just not tell her," I said, "Echo will hunter her down. She'll deal with her and we won't even have to get involved."

"We?" Sam asked softly, "Don't you want revenge on the demon who took everything from you?"

"I just want her gone," I admitted, "For revenge or just to hurt this demon army, I don't care. Plus if she is a part of something bigger, the Circle will hopefully have enough power to handle it."

Dean sat back down on the corner of my bed, watching me closely while Sam finished bandaging up his shoulder. Finished, Sam gathered up his own clean clothes and disappeared into the bathroom without saying anything else, but I could see the wheels turning in his eyes and knew there was more he wanted to say.

I dialed Echo's number and she answered on the first ring, "Hello?"

"Hey, kitten, it's me," I said.

"Don't call me kitten," Echo said, sounding more exasperated then annoyed, "Are you okay?"

"Peachy," I said, "What do you know about a demon named Werzelya?"

Echo was quite a moment, thinking, before saying, "Nothing. Why?"

"I have it on some sketchy information that she might be _the_ demon," I told her.

Again Echo was quite before coming back on the line with a deadly calm, "How do you know this?"

"A demon told me," I muttered reluctantly, "I know not the most reliable source, but it's more of a lead then we have ever had."

"A demon?" Echo demanded, "Really, True?"

"Like I said," I snapped, "It's a lead."

"What demon?" Echo asked, "How did you get this information? Where are you?"

"Oh I'm sorry- _chsss_ \- Echo- I can't," I said, fake static, "You're breaking- _chss_."

"True, if you hang up on me-"

I placed the phone back on the receiver and leaned back, rubbing my temples. A headache was starting to form behind my left eye reminding me I hadn't slept for about twenty-four hours. I closed my eyes, nearly forgetting that Dean was still sitting on the edge of the bed. I peaked at him, but he wasn't looking at me. His eyes were unfocused as he stared off into the distance. I suddenly felt sorry I hadn't told him about Werzelya earlier.

I'd be upset if he'd hid something like that from me, but I honestly hadn't meant to. It just never seemed like the time to bring it up. I didn't find it particularly dangerous information to keep, not like the fact the leader of the demon arm had a name and Sam knew it. That was dangerous information. We already knew about Werzelya and guessed that she was up to something. Lilith on the other hand was a scary badass, very old and powerful demon. I wondered what other secrets Sam was keeping.

Sam came out of the bathroom and I narrowed my eyes at him. He was still mostly wet and dressed in jeans and a grey top and rolled onto the bed, discarding his damp towel to the side. Unlike Dean he had not emerged in a puff of steam and I wasn't surprised there wasn't any steam on what I could see of the bathroom mirror. None of us had taken long showers, but it my experience cheap hotels didn't have a lot of heat. I turned back to Sam as he turned on his stomach, tucking his hands under the pillows and sprawling out his legs taking up as much space as he could.

"Guess that mean's its bed time," Dean said, raising his eyebrow at his brother, "It's been a long day."

He stood up, standing between the beds and looking around. There was no couch in the room, nowhere for a third person to sleep unless one of us took the floor. Or shared a bed. I glanced over at Sam whose eyes were closes and his body gently raised and fell with each breath. I doubted he was truly asleep, my mind leaning more toward this being one of his plans to force Dean and me together. I turned to Dean. His face had gone blank, coming to the same conclusion I had about the lack of sleeping space.

"Dean," I said, forcing him to look at me, "We are both adults, I'm pretty sure we can share the same bed for one night. It's not like we haven't done it before."

I slid the pillows out from under my leg and placed them back in their right place, kicking the wet rag to the side. I got up just long enough to pull back the covers and then lay back down, rolling onto my side so that I was facing Sam and pulled the covers up around me. After a few seconds Dean shuffled to the other side of the bed and the blanket was pulled back. The bed shifted as Dean laid down next to me. He shifted around until he found a comfortable spot before settling in. I couldn't resist glancing behind me to see Dean had his back to me as well. I smiled, turning back around and closing my eyes.

I felt like I'd only been a sleep a few minutes when I felt the bed shift and I opened my eyes just in time to see Dean walk past the foot of the bed on his way to the bathroom. I turned to Sam who was lying on top of his neatly made bed on his back, his hands were folded over his stomach and he was staring up at the ceiling. Lastly I turned to the digital alarm clock on the night stand in between our two beds to check the time. It was three in the afternoon. We'd only slept a little over five hours. I groaned and slipped lowering into the bed, burring myself beneath the covers.

"Dean wants to get going soon," Sam's voice came to my ears muffled from the comforter.

I threw back the blanket and sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, "Why?"

Sam shrugged against the bed, "Guess he just wants to get as far from here as we can get."

"There's only so far we can go," I muttered. The world was big, but it wasn't _that_ big.

Dean came back into the room, the sound of the toilet flushing drifting after him. He was carrying my duffle which I had left in the bathroom and set it on the bed before turning to gather up his own bag. I found Sam's already zipped up and on the edge of his bed. I groaned inwardly, bringing the knee of my good leg up to my chest and resting my head on it, wrapping my arms around it.

"Call room service. I would like French toast," I said before raising my head to look from Dean to Sam. There was a knock at the door and I nearly fell over spinning around to face it, "That was fast."

We waited and there was another knock. Sam sat up in bed, swinging his feet off the mattress to stare at the door. Dean walked over to the door and unlocked it, slowly opening it as he peaked out. His shoulders relaxed slightly as he stepped back to allow Ruby to walk in. I deflated, if it was because it was Ruby or because of the lack of food, I wasn't sure.

"Turn on the news," Ruby ordered Sam.

Sam grabbed the remote off of the bedside table and pointed it at the TV. It blipped on and the room was filled with its dim light and the sound of a female reporter filled the quite. She was standing in front of a crime scene, behind her firefighters walked around carrying hoses and walking in and out of a police. Recollection hit me like a smack to the face. She wasn't standing outside any police station; it was the one in Monument.

"The community is still reeling from the tragedy that happened just a few hours ago," The report said, "Authorities believe a gas main ruptured, causing the massive explosion that ripped apart the police station and claimed the lives of everyone inside."

"Oh, god," I muttered, pressing my hand against my mouth and watched the TV in horror. I stumbled out from under the covers, scooting down the bed, not wanting to believe what I was hearing. Dean collapsed back onto the corner of the bed beside me, his eyes fixed on the TV.

Oblivious to what she was actually reporting the lady on the TV went on to confirm our worst fears, "Among the deceased, at least six police officers and staff including Sheriff Melvin Dodd, Deputy Phil Amici, and Secretary Nancy Fitzgerald as well as three FBI agents identified as Steven Groves, Calvin Reidy and Victor Henriksen. Two fugitives in custody were also killed. We'll continue to follow the story here at the scene, but for now, back to you, Jim."

Ruby walked over and clicked off the TV and the room fell into a heart breaking silence, leaving us to wallow in our pain. I could see all their faces in my mind. Henriksen's proud stance, Nancy's sweet smile, and Amici's all rookie and determination. Ready to rebuild what was left of their lives, and we had left them there. Abandoned them while still knowing what was coming.

"Must've happened right after we left," Sam said softly. I turned my eyes to him, wondering for a moment if he really thought it was a gas explosion, but the look on his face said he knew what had really happened.

"Considering the size of the blast," Ruby said tossing each of us a little leather pouch. It jingled like coins when I caught mine, "Smart money's on Lilith."

"What's in these?" Dean asked, lifting his pouch to sniff it.

"Something that'll protect you," Ruby said, "Throw Lilith off your trail. For the time being, at least."

"Thanks," Sam said. I turned my pouch over in my hands, wondering if it would work on Werzelya, too.

"Don't thank me," Ruby snapped, "Lilith killed everyone. She slaughtered you precious little virgin plus half a dozen other people. So after your big speech about humanity and war, turns out your plan was the one with the body count."

I pressed my lips together and bowed my head, locking my fingers together. This time Ruby was right to lecture us, the foolish children we were. It had been a good plan, but the battle hadn't been over. It had only just started.

"Do you know how to fight a battle?" Ruby asked, continuing with her rant, "You strike fast and you don't leave any survivors so no one can go running to tell the boss. So next time, we go with my plan."

Ruby didn't give us time to respond. She turned on her heels and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her. I looked toward my boys; both of them had defeated looks on their faces. Sam's full of regret that he hadn't gone with Ruby's plan in the first place, and Dean because he hadn't managed to save everyone like he had thought.

I wanted to say something; to somehow make it okay, but there was nothing that would make this right. We mourned in silence, lost deep within our own twisted thoughts. I rested my head against Dean's shoulder, the only comfort I could think to give, and kept my eyes fixed on a ragged spot of carpet. I didn't want to close my eyes; I didn't want to dream of what Lilith had done to them.

"We should go," Dean said, leaning away from me before standing up. I didn't bother to keep myself up but instead allowed my body to fall against the bed.

"We shouldn't have left," I muttered.

"Don't do that," Dean said, rounding on me, "We didn't know."

"But we should have," I said, turning to look at him, "Ruby said Lilith was coming and we all know what demon's are capable of."

Dean reached down and took me by the elbow, pulling me to my feet, "We didn't know."

I had half a mind to argue, but I saw the look in Dean's eyes. He was trying to convince himself of what he was saying, maybe more than even me. He was blaming himself just as I, knew that we could have done more. We should have done more. We should have made sure that we saved everyone just as we had planned.

"You're right," I said finally, hearing the lie as I spoke, "We did everything we could."

I pulled myself from Dean's grip and snatched up my duffle bag before ducking into the bathroom to change. I dressed in a pair of torn jeans, not bothering to change my shirt. By the time I returned to the main room Sam and Dean had already taken their things out of the hotel room. Sam stood in the open doorway waiting for me. He gave me a sympathetic look. I said nothing, just pushed pasted him and slid into the backseat of the Impala, remaining silent as we left town.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

I stood outside the Morton House where I was instructed to stay until Sam and Dean arrived, bouncing on my toes to strengthen my ankle. I was healing quickly, but the Winchester worried that I wasn't fit enough to fight lest I did great damage to the tendon. I had agreed to wait behind and rest up while they did the investigation, but I refused to stay behind on the hung. This is why I was supposed to wait, but watching as small flashes of light peaked out from the boarded up windows my patience was growing thin. They appeared from different parts of the house, some even from the second floor. I had my fingers crossed it was more hunters and not idiots trying to prove they're brave enough to spend the night, but I couldn't wait for the boys.

I took a moment to mentally prepare myself and started forward, walking through the open gate, my boots crunching over the dirt. It was a short distance to the front porch and the decaying wood creaked in protest under my weight. I made my way to the front door, turning the doorknob gingerly and the door swung open with ease. The smell of dust and mold wafted up around me, engulfing my senses and a shiver ran up my spine. Instantly I heard the soft mummer of voices, none of which I recognized. I stepped into the building, shutting the door quietly behind me.

Glancing around I found myself standing in a small entry way with stairs directly in front of me. There was a hallway next to it that led to the dark back end of the house. There was a doorway to my left that led into the dining room and to my right the living room. I'm sure at some point it was a very attractive house under the layer of dust that had settled over the furniture, but know it just held a dark and creepy feel that clung to the skin like a thick layer of doom. No wonder no one wanted to buy it. The ghost could have had something to do with that to.

I turned my attention to the voices and saw a small circle of five people standing in the living room. Each member of the group held a camera and flashlights; two even had lights strapped to their heads. One of the group members had even gone as far as attaching a harness to his upper body with a camera pointing at his face. They hadn't noticed me yet, none of them so much as glanced in my direction.

Behind them, near the back wall they had set up a table with several laptops. Cords descended from the table and snaked out across the floor in each direction, some had been laid out down the hallway and some twisted up the stairs. I remember seeing things like this on shows where groups of people go in to supposedly haunted places to get proof of ghost.

"Everybody, bring it in," one of the group said capturing my attention, the leader maybe, "We've all been here before. Standard walk-through."

Responses of yeses and head nods came from the group. I crept closer, careful not to make any noise. Tilting my head to the side to better hear what he was saying. I hid behind a small wall that made up the right side of the entryway into the living room.

"Team one, west," Leader continued, his attention focused squarely on the group, "Team two, east. Spin the tires light the fires. Ghostfacers on three."

The group closed in on each other forming a tight circle, piling their hands in the open space in front of them. In unison the begun to chant, bouncing their hands up and down.

"One, two, three," Their arms shot into the air before they brought them slowly down, palms toward them, over their faces, "Ghostfacers!"

This would be the perfect time to try and get them out of the house before Sam and Dean showed up. Or worse the clock stuck midnight and all the legends about this house came true. It wasn't safe for mere mortals such as them. I stepped out from my hiding place.

"Boo!" I shouted.

The group screamed, scattering away from me like cockroaches under light. One, a girl, dropped to the floor covering her face, while the one in the camera harness disappeared behind the table. I couldn't help laughing as a scrawny kid ran down the hall, the sound of his screams fading into the distance. I doubled over laughing.

"What the hell?" A heavy set cameraman said lifting the camera and pointing it at my face.

I clutched my side, gasping for air as I continued to giggle and fighting to straighten up, "I'm sorry. I couldn't resist. It just came out."

The one who had disappeared behind the table peaked out at me. His eyes darted around to make sure the coast was clear before he came out of hiding. Leader held out his hand to the girl, helping her back to her feet. Once he had made sure she was okay he turned his gaze to me. He stalked up to me, glaring.

"What are you doing here?" Leader demanded.

"Yeah, who are you?" The girl asked, coming to stand behind Leader and holding a handheld camera high enough to point at me. She didn't look at me, just peered at the cameras little screen.

Still smiling I said, "I was supposed to meet some friends here, but I guess they haven't shown up yet."

"They probably chickened out," Leader said, "This house is haunted."

"Haunted?" I raised an eyebrow, forging surprise, but I couldn't lose my smile, "You don't say."

"Yes, so you better leave," the scrawny one said. He was walking back toward us from the hallway looking embarrassed but trying really hard to play it off. He squared his shoulders and buffed up his chest, "This place is dangerous for civilians."

"I'll leave if you do," I said. I looked at their cameras, "Are you guys here to document the haunting?"

"Yes," Leader said, "We are highly trained ghost hunters."

"Ghostfacers?" I asked, remembering what they had called themselves earlier.

"That's right," Scrawny said, "We face the ghost so you don't have to. So you can leave."

Someone was touchy. I'm surprise he even made it across the threshold with that scaredy cat demeanor of his.

"If this places is really as dangerous as you say then we should all leave," I said.

Scrawny laughed, "Oh, little girl. We eat danger for breakfast."

"Sure you do," I said sarcastically. I couldn't make them leave, not without whipping out my iron knife. I wasn't about to threaten them, "If you're staying so am I."

The group shared looks with the leader. Leader and Scrawny then shared a look, and Scrawny shook his head. The leader turned back to me. Clearly they group agreed with Scrawny.

I looked at the invisible watch on my wrist, "And you're wasting perfect hunting time."

Leader sighed, "Fine, but you have to do exactly what you're told."

"Yeah, sure," I said with a shrug. I glanced at Scrawny who looked disappointed. Aw, poor kid was breaking my heart. I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing at his pouting face.

"I'm Ed," Leader said. He pointed to the rest of his team, "That's Harry, Spruce, Corbett, and my adopted sister Maggie."

"I'm True," I said, rubbing my hands together, "So, what do we do first, team leader Ed?"

"You'll stay behind and watch the cameras in the Eagles Nest," Scrawny, aka Harry, said. He shot me a look full of daggers; I could practically feel them in my skin.

"Mm," I shook my head, "No, I wanna be in the thick of the battle. Get down and dirty with you grunts."

"That's the deal if you want to stay," Harry said. His tone was meant to tell me he was boss, but really he sounded like a little kid throwing a fit. "You said you would do what you where told."

"Okay, let me rephrase. I'll do whatever I'm told as long as I already going to do it. Anything else and you're screwed," I said, "I'll just fallow you around, anyway. Or see how breakable those laptops are. Maybe call the cops?"

"Then you'd just get in trouble if you call the police," Maggie so helpfully pointed out.

I nodded in agreement, "Breaking things it is."

I took a step toward the laptops, but Ed stepped in my way. He looked at his team, and then focused his eyes on me.

"Okay, okay," Ed said. He raised his arms out, spreading them between me and Harry. He looked back and forth between us like we were about to jump at each other's throats. "We don't have time to debrief you, civilian, so I think it'll just be safer for you to join my team."

I smiled, "Awesome. Lead the way."

"Okay, Ghostfacers," Ed said, "You know what to do."

Indeed they did. Like a well oiled machine the group split into its predetermined teams. I fallowed Ed and Corbett as they made their way down the hallway to the back of the house. The floor boards creaked under our weight as we pressed on, carrying our footsteps through the silent house. I reacted into one of the pockets of my cargo pants and pulled out my own flashlight, keeping close behind Ed. So far this seemed like a run of the mill haunting, but with everything Sam had told me he and Dean had found out I knew it wasn't.

I watched Ed's movements, listening to the way he spoke. I couldn't decide if this group was adorable in trying to act all ninjas and badasses or if it was all just a humorous fail with a tragic ending just under the surface. It was charming and sweet, but at the same time I felt like they were fools. Chasing some preconceived romantic notion that ghost where friends and not angry and horribly vengeful killing machines. They were in over their heads and didn't even know it. It was sad, but I'd do what I could to keep them safe.

Ed stealthily maneuvered around a corner and Corbett and I trailed after him. Even though Corbett had taken up the rear of our group I made sure to check behind us every so often to make sure nothing snuck up on us. There was never anything there, but the all too familiar feeling of being watched prickled the hairs on my arms.

"Hello?" Ed called out, holding an EMP device in front of his face, "I'm speaking to the restless spirits of the Morton house!"

We came to the first door, and Ed spun around so he was on the farthest side of the doorway and shinned his flashlight into the darkness. It felt almost like a game, the way he was acting, in a weird way I found it almost fun. I took the spot on the opposite side and did the same. It was only a closet, nothing special about the room stood out. No clues. I moved on, pushing past Ed.

"Okay," Ed said breathlessly from behind me, "Hello! My names Ed."

Ed quickly passed me and did another spin to the next door. He stood in front of it in a fighting stance ready for whatever was on the other side. Corbett moved around me to get a better view with his handheld camera. I stood out of their way.

"Careful," Corbett warned Ed.

Ed turned the doorknob and pushed open the door. He jumped into the room, "Watch my back."

We all shined our flashlights inside. Again this room had nothing to offer besides useless furniture and dangling spider webs. I shivered and rubbed my arms like a spider would be crawling across my skin, and backed out into the hallway.

"Well, this is exciting," I drawled, shunning my light on the dusty wall.

"What's your name?" Ed ignored me and continued speaking with the ghost while staring down at his EMP.

"Why haven't you moved on yet?" I chimed in.

"That's a good question, civilian," Ed gave me a nod before turning back to his EMF, ".3, .29."

"Is there an entity or entities here with us now?" Corbett asked in a shaky voice, "Can you give us a sign of your presence?"

"Are you okay?" I asked him. I put my hand on his shoulder to try and help calm him down. We haven't even seen any Casper's yet. I'd hate to see what he would do if we did.

"You got to breathe, buddy," Ed said.

"I can't breathe," Corbett responded quietly.

"Corbett, you got to pull it toge- Whoa!"

A loud thud sounded from the room behind Ed. The two guys gasped and spun toward the door, the lights of their flashlights bouncing across the walls. I gritted my teeth as I stared into the seemingly empty room. I wish I had been smart enough to bring ghost hunting supplies, but other than my flashlight and an iron knife I had tucked into the back of my pants, I had left everything out it my car. Way to be prepared, Van Helsing.

I inched toward the room. A hyperventilating Corbett caught me by the elbow, "What the hell was that?"

"That's what I was going to find out," I said, shrugging of his viper grip.

"Corbett, night vision," Ed ordered.

"Okay," Corbett gulped, sounding relieved to have something else to focus on, "Okay. Yeah."

I inched around Ed, pressing myself against the wall; I tried to shine my light into the darker corners of the room. I couldn't see much from my position and I wasn't about leave the newbie's behind. I glanced at them impatiently while Corbett fiddled with the camera.

"Calm down, buddy," Ed said in calm and gently voice, "Breathe, all right? Calm the whirlwinds of your mind."

I stared at Ed, unable to help the corners of my lips from twitching with a smile, "What are you, a fortune cookie?"

Ed shot me a look and slowly moved past me, stepping into the room. Corbett moved to fallow huddling close by my side.

I pushed him away slightly, gaining a foot of space between us and said, "Wanna talk? Sometimes that helps settle the nerves."

"Um, okay. So did they dare you to spend the night?" Corbett asked.

"Who?" I glanced at him over my shoulder as I fallowed Ed.

"The friends you're supposed to be meeting," Corbett smiled at me nervously, "Isn't that why you're here? To spend the night?"

"Oh, heh," I chuckled, "No, not exactly."

"Shh," Ed hissed as he did another one of his spins into the room.

I stepped across the threshold into what appeared to be the kitchen. This room would be much more promising. Breaking away from Corbett, I wandered toward one of the counters. Carefully pulling back a drawer, I dug though old silver wear and rags, but didn't find anything. I moved on to the cabinets.

"Oh, God," Corbett blurted suddenly. I flashed my light in his direction. He was standing in front of a window. "Okay, it was just... I think it was just this tree branch in the window."

"What is this amateur hour?" I asked looking from Corbett to Ed, "You guys have done this before, right?"

"He's an intern," Ed said simply, like that explained everything.

"Ah," I glanced at Corbett, "Okay, I guess."

"This is spooky, man," Corbett said. I tuned back to Ed. He was hunched over his EMP device as Corbett continued to freak out, "This place..."

"Yeah, kinda creepy," I admitted. I opened cabinet after cabinet door but came up empty.

Corbett spun around, heading back toward the door when suddenly he screamed, "Oh, no!"

"Freeze! Police officers!" A deep voice bellowed from down the hall, "Don't move!"

I didn't have to move to recognize the voice as Deans'. The lights of their flashlights bounced around as they rushed down the hallway, bursting into the room. I sighed with relief when they came closer and I could make out their faces in the lights. I lowered my flashlight, and scoffed. About time those two showed up. They stopped in front of Ed and Corbett.

"All right. Take it easy," Sam was saying to a hyperventilating Corbett while Dean said, "Let's see some identification."

"Come on," Dean demanded, "Let's see some I.D."

Sam flashed his light from Ed to Corbett before it landed on my face, "True?"

"Hiya, boys," I gave them my best toothy grin.

"Have you been here the whole time?" Dean asked, turning on me, "You where supposed to meet us outside."

"Yeah," I said, waiving my hand to indicate Ed and Corbett, "But there were lights."

"You're a cop?" Corbett asked me, "Like undercover? Are we under arrest?"

"Shut up," Dean said to Corbett as he turned to Ed, "ID."

"Whoa," Ed interrupted. He was looking at Dean, "I know you."

"Yeah, sure you do," Dean said, holding out his hand to Ed, "Let me see some ID."

"Hey, hold on a second," Ed stepped forward, "I know the both of you guys."

"What?" Corbett and I asked in unison.

"Holy shit," Sam said as realization dawned on his face.

"What?" Dean asked, facing Sam.

"Uh, west Texas, the tulpa we had to take out," Sam explained, "Those two goofballs that almost got us killed. The hellhounds or something?"

"You guys took out a tulpa?" I said amazed, "How?"

Sam, Dean, and Ed all starred at each other, completely forgetting me and Corbett. Dean cursed under his breath as he remembered. As awesome as it was that it really was such a small world, I was stuck on the tulpa. I hadn't heard of anyone stopping a tulpa before.

"Yeah," Ed said, "We're not hellhounds anymore, okay? It didn't test that well."

"It's Ghostfacers, now," I informed them, "Much more catchy."

"Ed, what's going on?" Corbett asked.

"They're not cops, buddy," Ed said, sounding cocky now, "No, not at all."

"Ed," Dean said smiling maliciously, "You had a partner, too, didn't you? A different guy?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah," Ed nodded.

"Is he around here somewhere?" Dean asked.

"He's running around, chasing ghost," Ed bragged.

"Okay, well, listen, you and Rambo need to get your girlfriends and get out of here," Dean said, "True, you're staying with us."

"Obviously," I said, rolling my eyes.

Ed chuckled, "All right. Listen here, chisel chest, okay? We were here first. We've already set up base camp. We beat you."

Oh, no. Not the right thing to say to Dean. I took a step back so I wouldn't be caught in the crossfire. It turned out to be a smart move on my part.

Dean looked at me and then Sam before he scoffed, "They were here first."

"Mm-hmm," Ed chuckled again as Sam rolled his eyes.

Dean grabbed hold of Ed and slammed him against the nearby wall, "Ed?"

"Yeah?" Ed grunted in pain.

"Where's your partner?" Dean asked, his voice a low growl.

"Uh, this way," Ed pointed down the hallway.

Dean released Ed from the wall and took hold of the back of his jacket. With Ed in front of him Dean walked him out of the room without. Corbett fallowed after them. Sam moved to do the same, shooting me another eye roll. I couldn't help but smile as I begun to follow him out of the room. A small clank sounded from behind me. I spun back around, shinning my light in the direction I thought I heard the noise. There was no one behind me. I stepped back into the kitchen, shinning my light around.

"Hello?" I asked. I waited but there was no response, "Entity or entities?"

I heard footsteps behind me. I swung around just as Dean walked into the room. He eyed the space around me before looking at me. He asked, "Who are you talking to?"

"No one apparently," I told him.

"Well, come on," Dean motioned for me to fallow him, "We got to get these kids outta here. I don't have time to babysit you, too."

I rushed after him and punched him in the shoulder. It was barley anything more than a love tap. Dean shot me an attempt at an irritated look but amusement lit up his eyes, which I returned. After what had happened in Colorado Dean had acted like it didn't bother him. It seemed to affect Sam just the same, but neither of them spoke about it and I didn't bring it up. It was nice to get back into a more fun routine.

" _Chisel chest_ ," I said, tapping my chin with my index finger. "That one's a keeper."

"Doesn't mean as much if someone else comes up with it," Dean informed me.

"Hm, true," I said, thinking that over, "Tight ass?"

Dean ran his hand down his face in an attempt to wipe the smile from his face but it did little good. He bowed his head, shaking it as he suppressed a laugh. I tried to do the same as we made our way toward the eagles nest. I couldn't help glancing over my shoulder to see if anything was behind us, but of course there was nothing visible.

As we walked into the eagles nest, Dean turned on Ed. All amusement drained from his voice, "What are you doing at the Morton house on leap year, Ed? What are you thinking?"

"We're here to spend the night, okay?" Ed explained, "It's for our TV show."

"What?" Sam let out a humorless laugh as he wondered off to the side of the room to begin looking around, "Great. Perfect."

"Did you know about this?" Dean asked me.

I scratched my nose nonchalantly, "Sorta. Didn't know it was for a show."

"Sorta?" Dean scoffed. He turned back to Ed, taking a deep breath to continue his lecture.

"Yeah, nobody's ever spent the night before," Corbett said before Dean could speak. He'd finally regained his courage. Good for him.

"Uh, actually, yeah, they have," Dean snapped. He glared at Corbett with an annoyed look, pursing his lips.

"We've never heard of them," Ed countered.

"Yeah, you know why?" Dean asked, creeping toward Ed. "'Cause the ones that have haven't lived to talk about it."

Ed laughed, "Oh, come on, I don't believe you."

"Look," Sam said, slamming his duffle bag onto the table. He unzipped it and pulled out a stack of papers, "Missing person's reports going back almost half a century. John Graham stayed on a dare. Gone. Julie Wilkerson, gone. There are tons more."

Ed took the list of paper from Sam, shinning his flashlight at the list of names that covered the page. I stayed right where I was, I didn't need another reminder about how many people had lost their lives in this house. When I had looked over the papers before there had been tons and tons of names on the list that last several pages.

"All of them came to just stay the night through," Sam went on, "Always on a leap year. The only body they ever found was the last owner, Freeman Daggett."

"Sounds like a creeper," I muttered.

"These look legit," Ed said.

He dropped the papers onto the table to flip through them better with his free hand. I glanced over to see him looking at one of a young girl, probably about twenty. She was pretty with blond hair and round eyes. The name on the top of the paper said Lucy Evans. She'd disappeared nearly ten years ago.

"They are legit," Sam snapped, "Look, Ed, we ain't got much time here, buddy. Starting at midnight, your friends are going to die."

As if on que we heard Harry start to scream, "Oh, my god! Oh, my god!"

We all spun around to point our flashlights at the stairs as team two rushed down them. Dean lifted his shotgun, ready for the ghost. I clenched and unclenched my fist, feeling how painfully empty they were.

"Guys! Guys!" Harry said as he rushed toward us. "We got one!"

The group rushed into the living room, all talking at one. There was a mix of fear and excitement on their faces and their words blurred together in a mass chaotic tones. Harry grabbed hold of Corbett, who was standing closest to him, and shook him in excitement.

"Corbett, we saw one," Harry bounced ecstatically, "We saw one! It was a full on apparition! It was like a class four. It was a spectral illumination. It-"

Silence descended on the group as Harry's eyes fell on Sam and Dean. He looked from one brother to the next and back again, his body frozen to the spot. I pressed my lips tightly together to hopefully cover my smile.

"Hey," Harry said, "Aren't those the assholes from Texas?"

"Yes," Ed confirmed.

Sam and Dean shared a look. Dean stepped forward, "All right, let's have this reunion across the street, guys."

"Crap," Harry said, not moving a muscle, "What are you guys doing here?"

"Come on," Dean ignored him and attempted to usher them toward the door, "We'll get you ice cream. Our treat. What do you say?"

"Yeah, I say no," Harry said, marching toward the laptops. He turned his attention away from Dean, "Look at this. Ed, look at this."

Ghostfacers all gathered around the computers and were fiddling with the papers Sam had brought while Harry updated them. Maggie was seated in one of the chairs and was pulling up a playback of the cameras from the upstairs bedroom.

I turned to Dean, "You would have had me with the ice cream offer."

Dean glared at me, "Shut up."

"I love mint chocolate," I told him.

Dean shot me a look. He was so clearly telling me we didn't have time for my shit that I smiled brightly at him. Dean rolled his eyes, his resolve lessoning and walked to join his brother who was already standing behind the group of Ghostfacers. He towered over them like a giant about to grind their bones to make some bread. Snickering at the image in my head I joined my boys.

"Look at this!" Maggie said, grabbing everyone's attention. She pointed to the screen of the laptops in front of her, "Okay, honest-to-God proof, all right?"

We all gathered around behind Maggie and watched as team two stood around in one of the upstairs bedrooms. Suddenly static messed with the camera and when it cleared a fifties gangster looking dude appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the room. His lips where moving as if he were talking to someone, and he was making gestures with his hands.

"Shit," I mumbled under my breath. I looked at Sam and Dean who had come to the same conclusion I had.

"What kind of reading did you get?" Ed was asking Harry.

"It was a 10.9," Harry said, pointing to the gangster.

Harry went on to tell the story of how the ghost had appeared, making himself sound much cooler then the video suggested, but I tuned him out. I leaned closer to get a better view of the ghost. Near the end of the loop, the gangster body whipped backwards as if he had been shot. The video was disrupted with static and then he was gone.

Dean grabbed me by the arm and pulled me around the table with Sam. We walked into the hallway outside of the living room. Forming a tight circle we kept our voices lower as we discussed what we had just seen.

"You think we were off on this?" Sam asked, "That was a death echo."

"Yeah, but what's it doing here? Did anybody get shot here?" Dean asked.

"Nothing in the police records said anything about it," I shrugged, thinking back to the files upon flies I had head on the place.

Sam turned to me, "Have you ever seen anything like this?"

I shook my head, "A death echo outside of its comfort zone is weird. Something is definitely going on. I keep getting this feeling-" I trailed off- "Something isn't right here."

"Why didn't you tell them to get the hell out of this house?" Dean snapped, running his hand down his face.

"Well, excuse me, sir, but how do you expect me to do that?" I snapped, "It was five against one."

"I've seen you take on five demons at once," Sam mumbled.

I narrowed my eyes at him and he shot me an apologizing look, "Yeah demons I could threaten, not a grip of kids. I'd rather not be arrested for assault, thanks."

"These guys will get themselves killed," Dean muttered rubbing his forehead. He let out a slow, deep breath.

"They mean well," I said, glancing over at the group who were still hurtled around the computers, chattering excited, "Team Leaders kinda cute."

Dean shot me an unbelieving look, "Let's just focus on the death echo."

"What's a death echo?" Spruce asked suddenly as he moved toward us, pointing the camera over at our faces.

"We got a problem here," Sam informed the cameraman, his tone dripping with irony, "That ghost ain't it."

"What's a death echo?" Spruce repeated, this time with more force.

"They are like memories put on repeat," I said simply.

"Echoes are trapped in a loop, okay," Dean explained further, "They keep replaying how they died over and over and over again, usually in the place they were ganked. It about as dangerous as a scary movie."

"Maybe the echo's isn't dangerous, but maybe something else is," Sam said.

"Some of us shouldn't stick around to find out," I said, tilting my head toward the Ghostfacers.

"You're both right," Dean agreed. The brothers and I headed back into the living room, "All right, we need to get out of here, guys. Come one. Let's go."

"Pack it up," Sam ordered.

I took the stack of papers out of Harry's hands and drop them on the table, "You can all come back tomorrow."

Everyone begun complaining at once, arguing with each other, but Sam and Dean weren't taking no for an answer this time. They rounded up the group like sheep, herding them toward the door. With their height and broad shoulders it was easy for just the two of them to build a wall as they moved toward the door. I stayed slightly behind; making sure no straggler could break away.

"What about all of our equipment?" Maggie demanded.

"Tomorrow," I repeated, "It'll still be there tomorrow. But you might not be."

"We got more material," Harry insisted. He looked from Dean and Sam to me, "We got all kinds of stuff. We'll make you guys recurring guest stars."

"That's one hell of an offer, kid, maybe next time," I said as I pushed his shoulder so he turned back around, heading for the front door.

"Wait!" Ed yelled suddenly, tossing up his hands even as Dean shoved him at the front door. We all paused as he looked around at the group. "Where's Corbett?"

Dean pushed Ed against the door, ordering them to leave. I took a step down the hall away from the group, "Don't worry, guys. We'll get Corbett."

"No man left behind," Ed argued.

I opened my mouth to respond when somewhere from deep in the house someone screamed. It echoed around through the empty house sounding loud and horrifying. I didn't hesitate, I took the stairs two at a time and I charged toward where the screams where coming from.

"That was Corbett," Ed yelled, his footsteps fallowing after me.

Calling for their lost comrade, I heard the pounding of the rest of the Ghostfacers as they fallowed. I was slightly impressed with their loyalty and bravery, but I didn't look back to see who all had come.

"She'll get him," Dean called after us, "Come back!"

"Guys?" Sam said, his voice seeming distant as I made it to the top of the stairs and bolted down the hallway.

I quickly scanned each room, making sure it was empty before moving on. There was no sign of Corbett, no clue to what had happened to him. It was pretty safe to assume that the ghost had somehow gotten around us or hid him somewhere, because I made it to the room at the end without seeing anything. I skidded to a stop as the others joined me, grouping in the center of the room we listened helplessly to Corbett's screams.

"He's not here," Sam said, "Let's go."

The Ghostfacers objected and we had to drag them back down the hallway. Once again I lagged behind, listening closely. Maybe I'd hear another voice, one that would lead me to Corbett. I checked every room again as I passed just in case I missed something before, but again there was no sign of him.

"Here we go," Dean said, "Keep it moving."

We rushed back down the stairs. The Ghostfacers gathering in the base while Sam and Dean gathered at the foot of the stairs in front of the door. I remained on them to make sure no one could get pasted me and watched the group like a hawk. Corbett could die, and I wasn't going to let another one wander off.

"Oh, God," Ed's voice drifted toward me as he and his team gathered around the computer table, checking the screens, "He's gone."

I collapsed, half watching as Sam and Dean struggled to open the door and windows. I could already feel the shift in the air, the trapped feeling. Midnight must have passed, and the ghost had claimed his first victim. There was no getting out over here until dawn.

"It's 12:04, Dean," Sam said, pulling at the doorknob, "You good? You happy?"

"Yeah, I am happy," Dean retorted, focusing on the small window by the door.

" _'Let's go hunt the Morton house_ ,' you said, _'It's our Grand Canyon_ ,'" Sam mocked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Sam, I don't wanna hear this," Dean waved off his little brother and begun groaning with exertion as he tried to push the window open.

"You got two months left, Dean," Sam grabbed an overturned chair off the floor, "Instead, we're gonna die tonight."

Sam slammed the chair against the door. It shattered, the splintered pieces raining to the floor. He tossed the leg that had snapped off in his hand over his shoulder. I turned my head as it clattered to the floor, sliding a foot before it was stopped by a rug on the floor of the next room.

"Whoa!" Spruce yelled, dragging my attention to him, "What the hell is going on here?"

"Sam has slain a chair," I said, giving Sam a look I hope told him that that was pointless and uncalled for. All he was going to do was freak everyone out more.

"I'll tell you wants going on," Sam said as the Ghostfacers gathered around, "Every door, every window- I'm guessing every exit out of this house- they're all sealed."

"But why are the sealed?" Maggie asked with fear edged into her voice.

"It's a supernatural lockdown, okay," Dean said, "Whatever took Corbett doesn't want us to leave, and it's no death echo. It's just a bad mother, and it wants us scared."

"Or it just wants us," Maggie said.

"That's helpful," I said just as Dean's EMF device started going off. I stood up, reading myself for what was to come.

"Uh, guys, the camera's fritzing again," Spruce said.

"Whoa, guys," Ed said, "The EMF's starting to spike."

I launched off of the stairs. I walked to Dean in two long strides and stood beside him. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my iron blade just in case, gripping it tight in my hand. It wouldn't injure the ghost, but it would be enough to make it think twice about messing with me.

"Everyone stay close," Sam said while the Ghostfacers huddled together. I wasn't sure if he meant to but Sam somehow had me pinned between him and Dean. "There's something coming."

Dean glanced behind him, his green eyes flickering to the stairs. When he realized I wasn't there his eyes swerved to find me stand beside him. Our eyes met for a second before he turned back to the main area of the living room. Beeping and static filled the air around us like white noise.

"Whoa!" Spruce yelled. I looked around Dean in the direction his camera was pointing and saw another death echo, a chubby guy, wobbling around as if he were drunk.

"Is this the same echo you guys saw earlier?" Dean asked.

"No," Spruce answered, "It's a different guy."

"Multiple echoes?" Dean asked, "What the hell is going on?"

"Beats me," Sam said.

"I have no clue," I mumbled.

"Okay," Dean stepped forward. He ran at the death echo getting in front of it, waving his hands and yelling in his face, "Hey, buddy! Wake up! You're dead!"

The echo glitches, but didn't seem to respond to Dean's shouts. He continued to wobble around, oblivious to his surroundings. He glanced around a bit, his glossy eyes scanning around like they were seeing but not seeing. It was sad that this soul was bound to this world, not knowing that his life had ended and that it would end over and over again. Forever.

"What's he doing?" Harry asked, watching Dean with a confused look on his face.

"It's rare, but sometimes you can shock an echo out of its loop," Sam explained, "If you can talk to the part of the ghost that's still human."

"Nine times outta ten though you gotta have a connection to it," I continued, "Something for it to remember."

"Come on!" Dean continued shouting, getting close and personal with the ghost, "Wake up! Be dead!"

The ghost glitches again and turned around at the sound of a train horn blaring from behind us. It sounded as if it were inside the house. I whipped around but saw nothing. Slowly I turned back to the ghost.

"You guys hear that?" Ed said, "What's that sound?"

"What is that?" Sam asked.

"It's a train," I said.

"Snap out of it, buddy, huh?" Dean yelled at the ghost, "Come on, what're you waiting for?"

The death echo's face and torso lit up with a bright light as the sound of a train rushing by drew closer and closer. The trains whistle blew again, the sound loud enough to causing my ears to ring when it stopped. Realization spread across the face of the ghost, then fear as the invisible train sped ever closer. The ghost threw up his arms in reflex but the train hit him full on, blasting him away. I flinched back and the ghost and train vanished into the far wall.

"Where the hell did it go?" Harry asked.

"I think the right question is what the hell is going on?" I said.

Like Dean said, two echoes in one place was highly unusual. One killed by a gunshot, one by a train. The gun shot hadn't been reported, and I doubt anyone was killed by a train in this house, so what where they doing here?

Dean, looking rather shocked about being so close to the splatter of the ghost, walked back over to us. He looked at each of us in turn before he slipped back into his take charge attitude. He squared his shoulders and set his jaw.

"We need to look for clues, try to find your friend," Dean informed us, "Stick together and watch you back."

With that Dean led our little group off, deeper into the house. The temperature seemed to be steadily dropping and everyone was on edge. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end but there was never anything larking around in any of the corners when I glanced around. I sighed, staying as close to the Winchesters as I could.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

Stepping on to the landing of the second floor, I fidgeted with my knife. Flipping it back and forth between my fingers to keep busy, fallowing my band of misfits through the Morton house. Everyone's attention was focused on the ghost and finding Corbett, their eyes shifting around us like we were mice waiting for the eagle to swoop down and snatch us up. At first we searched in relative silence through the first floor, the occasional Ghostfacers calling out for Corbett. It wasn't till we got to the second floor that Dean couldn't keep quiet about the whole situation.

"Dude, there's no records of any of this," Dean begun, his deep voice breaking the silence as he shook his head, "No one got shot here. Obviously, no one got run over by a freaking train."

"Unless there's a railroad close by and a bit of brain juice got tracked in her," I suggested, only half paying attention. I twirled the knife around again, peeking into a room for any signs of Corbett.

"Yeah, maybe," Dean agreed, pondering on that for a moment.

"Did the echoes take Corbett?" Maggie demanded.

"Yes," Dean said automatically, "No. I don't know. We don't know what's doing what here. That's what we're trying to figure out, okay?"

Sam glanced at Maggie, looking more sympathetic then Dean, "Okay, look, death echoes are ghost, okay? Now, ghost usually haunt places where they lived or where they died."

"Except these ones didn't live or die here," Dean added.

"Right," Sam agreed.

"So what are they doing here?" Maggie asked.

"Hey, give the lady a cigar," Dean said sarcastically. He stopped, turning around to look at Maggie. His gaze turned from her to the camera she had in his face, "All right, seriously, does looking at this nightmare through that camera make you feel better or something?"

"Um," Maggie said, "I, um... Well, yeah. I think so."

"Oh," Dean nodded, pursing his lips. He shot me a slightly bemused look before continuing on.

"Are you okay?" A voice asked from beside me.

"Hm?" I glanced up to see Sam staring down at me. I gave him the brightest smile I could muster, "I'm fantastic, considering the situation."

"Right," Sam let out a soft chuckle, glancing around us to see if anyone was listening before his eyes settled back on me, "How are you holding up?"

"Well, I'm hungry," I informed him quietly, my smile turning sly as I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, "I really wanted that ice cream."

Sam raised his brow in concern, oblivious to the joke, "You're not going to pass out, are you?"

"Only if you promise to catch me," I said. He smiled, but the look he gave me was a silent promise despite the fact I wasn't serious. I sighed, "I'm worry about Corbett. It was stupid to let them play hunter when this place is notorious for disappearances."

"Hey," Sam said reaching out and taking hold of my arm to stop, "That's not your fault. You couldn't have predicted that he'd wonder off on his own."

I smiled slightly. Yeah it might not all be my fault, but it was foolish and reckless to have let them stayed. I should have done something, tried harder. I glanced back at Sam, "Let's just find him."

I continued walking, and thankfully Sam did as well. We continued from room to room, looking in every corner for any sign of Corbett but there wasn't so much as a footprint in the dust. It was as if he had just vanished into thin air. As far as we knew he could have.

"Are you two dating?" I turned to find Spruce standing beside me pointing the camera in my face. When I shot him a questioning look he nodded his head in Sam's direction.

"No," I said, heading for the room at the end of the hall, "He's more like a brother."

"And what about Dean?" Spruce pressed, "Is he like a brother?"

"Not so much," I mutter, glancing at the camera and stopping myself before I said anything else.

I walked a little faster, leaving Spruce behind me. I caught up with the Winchesters as they walked into a room that closely resembled a study. There were several stuffed animals heads on the wall and a desk sat in front of the window with piles of moth eaten papers. The right wall filling cabinets, metal lockers, and the left had more tables with more junk on them. Everything was covered in dust and spider webs and smelt like moldy musk.

Sam made a beeline for one of the filing cabinets and riffled though the papers stacked on in. I fallowed Dean to the desk, moving to the side so my back was to the window. I shuffled through the contents of the drawers, while Dean started on the papers stacked on the corner. Maggie stood beside him pointing her camera at his face, recording his every move. I watched her closely, trying not to feel jealous at how close to his side she was sticking.

"Freeman Daggett, house's last owner," Sam said. I glanced over at him to see he was holding a wood frame displaying a discolored yellow paper, "Officially commended for twenty years of fine service at the Gamble General Hospital."

"He's a doctor?" Dean asked, slightly surprised. I imagined the look on my face mirrored his tone; this house didn't have the feel of a doctor. Even a crazy one.

"Janitor," Sam replied. I scoffed, creepy janitor for $100, please.

"This looks like his den," Dean said, looking around with his flashlight and shinned it around the room, "When'd you say he died? '64?"

"Yeah," Sam conformed, "Heart attack."

"What are these, C-rations?" Maggie asked suddenly, moving away from the desk toward one of the tables. She shinned her light at one of the foil covered bags.

"Yeah," Dean said as he joined her, "Army-issued, three squares. Like a life time supply."

"How the hell do you know that?" I asked.

Dean glanced over his shoulder at me, "Our dad was a Marine."

"Um, oh," I nodded in acknowledgement, "Okay, cool."

Learning new things every day, no wonder the Winchesters were so handy in a fight and good with guns. I had figured it was just years of hunting, though that defiantly didn't hurt, but they had an even better advantage. It would also explain why Dean was so keen on barking orders at us all the time. In a weird way it almost made it charming.

"God, is that all he ate?" Maggie mumbled, looking at pile after pile of the rations and distracting me from my train of thought. I turned back to the papers on the desk, finding nothing in the drawers, and was soon joined by Sam with Spruce shining his camera back and forth between us.

"One-stop shopping," Dean said moving away from the rations. My eyes trailed after him as he made his way to a locker next to the filing cabinet and pulled at the door, "Hello. Locked."

"Oh, come on, guys," Ed said with sudden desperation approaching the desk and giving me an exasperated look as I picked up a stack of papers, "This is ridiculous. I mean, how the hell is this supposed to find Corbett, huh? We should be digging up the friggin' floorboards right now."

"That's creepy," I said, ignoring Ed. The paper on top of the stack was an old brochure, "'Survival Under Atomic Attack.'"

Sam walked over and took the paper out of my hands, "Huh. An optimist."

"Sounds like a fun guy," I muttered flipping paper after paper back onto the table. Most of them were far to faded to read.

There was a loud crash as Dean pried open the locker. Maggie turned her camera to record Dean as Ed hurried over behind him checking the locker for EMF spikes. Dean pulled a box out of the locker and turned around, his face level with Ed's EMF. Dean looked from the EMF machine to Ed, clearly annoyed. He rolled his eyes and pushed past him walking to join Sam and me at the desk. Dean slammed the metal box down with a clank. Flipping it open he dug through the contents.

"Crap," Dean muttered as he tossed the useless papers aside that he didn't find interesting, "Crap. Taxidermy. You said Daggett was a hospital janitor?"

"Yeah," Sam said. I reached for the taxidermy book and flipped through it, not finding anything hidden within its pages. Annoyed, I tossed the book over my shoulder. It landed on the ground with a soft thud, causing a layer of dust to poof up around my feet.

"Ew," Dean moaned as he stared down at little square papers in his hands. They looked like gift tags, even had little yellow string tide through a small whole at one side of the papers, "Got three toe tags here. One death by gunshots, train accident, and suicide."

"Ew," Sam and I said in unison as realization dawned on us.

I grimaced, swallowing down a moan of disgust and possibly some vomit. I would have preferred the brain juice, "Really fun guy."

"What?" Ed asked, looking at each of us in turn. The other Ghostfacers congregated around the desk to take a closer look at what Dean had found.

"Well, that explains why all the death echoes are here," Sam explained. Or at least tried to. The Ghostfacers didn't seem to get it so he went on, "They're here because their bodies are here somewhere, in the house."

They still didn't get it, matching looks of confusion where on each of their faces. Dean said, "Daggett brought the remains home from the morgue to play."

A simultaneous _ew_ rang out from the Ghostfacers as their faces distorted into looks of disgust. Harry looked as if he was about to throw up, but he managed to keep it down. Ed had to turn way, holding out his hand as if he could block out the mental image taking root in his head. Spruce seemed to recover quickly. And Maggie…

"Wait, where'd Maggie go?" I asked, glancing around the room. She was nowhere to be seen.

"Son of a bitch," Dean snapped, looking around as well.

"Seriously?" I demanded, "Idiots, the lot of them. That's like the number one rule: Don't wander off!"

Dean charged out of the room and I hurried after him, Sam lagging behind with the rest of the group. He turned into the first room that had glimpse of light flashing out of it. I stood in the doorway as Dean marched up to her. She turned around and gasped at his sudden appearance.

"Closer to the heard, okay?" Dean turned around, looking stone faced. I raised my eyebrow at him, wondering if he got some sorta kick out of sneaking up on her like that. I would have, but I had a strange sense of humor.

"Maggie?" Harry said as he pushed past me, "Maggie?"

"She's fine," Dean told him, moving past me.

A cold chill ran up my spine, raising the hair on the back of my neck. I grabbed hold of Dean's jacket sleeve, pulling him to a stop. I stared up at him, "Dean-"

"Harry," Ed interrupted as he joined us down the hall, "I got an 8.6 and climbing fast. Something huge is coming."

Dean's head snapped up, his eyes looking down the hallway toward where Sam still was. We hurried back down the hall, gathering back into the study as Ed and Harry stared down at the EMF. I realized I was still clutching Dean's sleeve and quickly let go, taking a step back. I pulled out my little knife again, gripping it tightly in my hand.

"It's past 11, you guys," Harry shouted.

"What?" Dean demanded, "Nobody move! Stay quit."

The sound of the cameras malfunctioning filled the room. The lights begun to flicker and for a split second darkness descended around us. As suddenly as it had started, the electrical interference stopped and everything went back to normal. I glanced around the room, noticing only one thing: Sam was missing.

"Sam?" Dean said, noticing the same thing. Dean walked to the spot Sam had been standing just moments before where only his flashlight was left. Picking it up, the look on his face hardened as he realized what had happened, "Sam!"

"Sam?" I called, already moving for the door.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled as he pushed past me into the hallway.

I quickly fallowed after, the Ghostfacers hot on my trail. As the group called out for our lost companions, I remained silent listening for any sounds their yelling might be covering up. I enter yet another empty room, I turned around and nearly ran into Dean who was standing directly behind me, looking over my head into the room.

He barley spared me a glance before turning and moving on to the next room. We approached the door and heard the muffle sounds of grunts and yells. We entered the room to find Ed and Harry locked in an awkward grip. Ed had hold of Harry's jacket and was whacking him with his open palm, while Harry attempted to karate chop at Ed's limbs.

"Hey!" Dean snapped, rushing into the room and shoved Ed and Harry apart with ease, "What the fuck are you doing?! Cut it out! We're down by two people."

Dean didn't pause for a response, just brushed past me calling out for his brother. I ran to catch up with him. I took hold of his jacket sleeve again, forcing him to stop.

"This isn't working," I told him, "There has to be another way to find them."

Dean ran his hand across his face he turned around, looked down the hall, and then turned again to look the other way. He looked lost and worried, and angry. He said, "You're right."

He turned and headed back the way we came. I hurried after him, fallowing him back into the den. Dean rushed over to the desk and started rifling through the papers on it again. I did the same, not sure what I was looking for, but hoping I'd know it when I saw it. The Ghostfacers came through the door a few moments later, their head bowed in shame.

"What are you guys doing?" Harry asked, coming to stand beside me and keeping a good distance between him and Ed.

"Okay," Dean said, leaning his open palms against the table to prop himself up. He stared down at the papers, "So Daggett was a Cold War nut, okay? He was an amateur taxidermist. He liked to slow dance with cadavers, and all he ate was c-rations, so what the hell are we looking for?"

"A horrible little life," Maggie said softly.

"Yeah," Dean said picking up the brochure for surviving the atom bombs, "A lonely life. A Cold War life. He was scared."

Dean slammed the brochure down on the table before he turned and ran from the room, I ran after him. We charged down the hallway, making our way to the stairs.

"Scared of what?" Harry called from behind us.

"Dean, where are you going?" Ed called as they caught up to us. Our footsteps were like thunder as we pounded down them, gathering in front of the door.

"Where are you going?" Maggie demanded, panting.

"Guys like Daggett back then, the ones who were really scared of the Russkies, they built bomb shelters," Dean said looking around him. He found the door he was looking for, "I'm guessing he's got one. I'm guessing it's in the basement."

He turned the knob and swung it open. I glanced around half expecting to find a broom cupboard, but instead I found another stairwell leading down. Dean shinned his flashlight down into the darkness. Slipping out his shotgun and holding it at the ready, he quickly hurried down the stairs. I gripped my knife tight and fallowed after him. I was halfway down the stairs when the door slammed shut. I spun around to see Spruce standing at the top of the stairs facing the door.

"Uh," Spruce said, "Who closed the door?"

"It did," I said. Spruce stared down at me. "The ghost."

"It wants to separate us," Dean said. He walked past me, standing in front of the door. "Ed, listen to me!"

"What?" Ed called through the door.

"There's some salt in my duffle," Dean instructed, "Make a circle and get inside."

We were met with silence from the other side for a few seconds before Ed called, "Inside your duffle bag?"

"In the salt, you idiot!" Dean yelled.

Dean turned around and gave me an exasperated look. I rolled my eyes and made my way down the rest of the stairs. The sound of Dean's footsteps echoed behind me, growing closer until he was directly behind me. Caustically we made our way around the basement looking for any signs of the bunker.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Spruce said suddenly.

"Me or him?" I asked.

"Him," Spruce pointed at Dean.

"What?" Dean snapped.

"Earlier, you and Sam," Spruce said, "He said you have two months left?"

"Yeah, it's complicated," Dean muttered, "A while ago, Sam..." Dean turned to face Spruce and paused giving a low chuckle, "No, I'm not gonna whine about my fucking problems to some shit reality show. I'm gonna do my fucking job."

"Is it cancer?" Spruce asked.

"Shut up," Dean sapped.

Dean continued looking for the bunker and Spruce turned to me. He stared at me a moment before saying, "Is it cancer?"

I shook my head and fallowed after Dean, "Not my place to tell."

We approached the far wall, stacked with more junk. This guy was a freaking pack rat. It didn't look like he tossed out anything. I reached out for a box that sat on the shelf when Dean caught my wrist.

"You hear that?" Dean asked. He tilted his head to the side, listening. I did the same.

"It's music," I stated. It sounded like the score for _Happy Birthday_.

"Yeah, and it's coming from behind this wall," Dean said, releasing my wrist.

Dean moved to one side of an old locker cabinet, setting his flashlight on one of the shelves. Spruce and I stood back, watching Dean pull it away from the wall, the heavy metal scrapping along the floor. Dean grunted, dusting the dust from his hands.

"Wow, your strong," Spruce said. Dean flipped him off.

Dean struggled with the door, shoving it open. Raising his gun, he changed into the room calling out Sam's name. The ghost of Daggett was standing at the far side of the room, behind Sam who was tied to a chair, holding a long metal bar.

Daggett was a tall man, looking almost taller than Sam. He had broad shoulders and an angry face, twisted by years of purgatory torment. He was dressed in a dirty grey jumpsuit that matched the haunting look of his skin. His large hand tightened around the metal bar in his hand, his eyes narrowing in outrage at the interruption.

Sam looked at us with relief, despite the fact he was about to be impaled. He looked alright, except for a gash under his eye, the blood dripping down the side of his face. I looked at Daggett, and he took a step toward us. Dean pointed his gun and pulled the trigger. Daggett instantly exploded into a puff of ghost smoke and vanished.

I rushed past Dean and over to Sam and begin cutting at the bonds that held him. Dean knelt beside me, working on the knots at Sam's ankles. Once his right arm was free, I rushed to the other side of him and cut the rest of the ropes.

I took hold of one arm, Dean taking the other, and we hoisted Sam to his feet. We moved toward the door, eager to get out of there, but I couldn't help but notice that the long table in the room was set for a party. Set for six with a small, molding cake sitting in the center. The dead bodies of the guest sat at attention, with birthday hats atop their heads. At the head of the table was Corbett, hunched over and lifeless. A trail of blood ran from a hole in his neck, trickling into his shirt.

"Oh, no, Corbett," Spruce said, turning to his friend.

"Come on, let's go," I said, pushing Sam away from the table, "We can't help him now."

The four of us head for the door. Spruce stepped out first, turning around to record the rest of us. I resisted the desire to reach out and take his camera, wanting the satisfaction of smashing it on the ground. Instead I did my best to ignore him, focusing on supporting Sam's weight as he gained his strength back.

"What's this Daggett guy's problem anyway?" Spruce asked, walking backwards to the stairs.

"Loneliness," Sam said.

"He's never heard of a RealDoll?" Dean asked, smiling at his own joke.

I rolled my eyes at him, "Did those even exists in the 60's?"

"No, Daggett was the Norman Bates, stuff-your-mother kind of lonely" Sam explained. "That's why he lifted these bodies from the morgue, threw himself a birthday party, except they were the only ones who would come."

"How sad," I said solemnly, "Poor guy."

"Poor guy?" Dean said, "He's killed countless people."

"Not while he was alive, Dean," I shot back, "He didn't become and angry spirit until after he died."

"Anyway," Sam said, "So, at midnight, he sealed them in the bomb shelter and went upstairs and O.D.'d on horse tranqs."

"How do you know this?" Dean asked.

"'Cause he told me," Sam scoffed.

"Okay, so now that he's dead, what?" Dean asked, "Same song, different verse, trying to get people to come to his party?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Sam nodded, "Stay forever."

"That's one hell of an invitation," I muttered.

Dean glanced around us and begun changing the rock salt shells out of his shot gun, "Not one I'm want to accept."

"Are those real bullets?" Spruce asked, the empty shells clattering to the floor.

"It's rock salt," Dean explained, "Let's get out of here."

Dean passed the shotgun to Sam and walked back toward the stairs. He grabbed hold of a thick metal piece of pipe, marching up the stairs with determination. Sam and I walked up after him, hanging back a few steps with Spruce behind us. Reaching the top of the stairs Dean tried the handle, but just like before it didn't open. He banged the pipe against the basement door to no avail. I wasn't surprised. They couldn't get the front door open; they wouldn't get this one open. I leaned against the stair railing, looking out across the basement for Daggett.

"Seriously, you're still shooting?" Sam demanded. I glanced over to see him looking at Spruce.

"It makes him feel better," Dean panted, "Don't ask."

Dean banged against the door a few more times before he tossed his head back in exhaustion. He glanced down at me and I raised my eyebrows at him, my silent but sarcastic way of asking if he thought that would really work. He shot me a look to shut up.

"Ah, hell, guys," Spruce said snatching my attention, "Get in your ghost-role thing. Something's coming."

Daggett appeared behind Spruce and grabbed hold of him. He tossed Spruce across the room, and the boy landed with a thud on the ground. Daggett walked toward him to finish the job and Sam changed down the stairs to stop him. I hurried after him, watching Sam point the shot gun and pulled the trigger. I caught up with Sam as the rock salt soared through the air and connected with Daggett's back and evaporated.

I ran over and pulled Spruce up by his arm. He groaned, dusting himself off. He wobbled a bit and I tightened my hold on his arm. He flashed me a thankful look, his gaze turning to examine his camera. It had some scratches but otherwise was still intact.

"Take it easy," Sam said coming to stand beside us, he was looking at Spruce, "You alright?"

"Uh, guys," Spruce said, looking past us.

We spun around to see Daggett standing directly behind Dean, who was standing near the stairs. Dean turned, but Daggett grabbed hold of his jacket and tossed him into the nearby wall. Dean's head whipping against the cement with an audible thud and he dropped to the floor. Daggett turned on Sam, swinging out his long arm and smacking him aside. He took a step towards me, reaching out. I whipped out my knife, slicing it across his palm. Daggett whipped his hand away and let out a low groan in pain, but didn't run like other ghost sometimes did. He came closer, towering over me.

"This is bad," Spruce whimpered as we backed up. He clutched onto my arm, squeezing it so tight it hurt," Very bad."

I looked around for where Sam had dropped the shot gun. It was several feet away, even if I managed to get past Daggett he'd catch up to me before I got to it. Or worse, he got a hold of Spruce and killed him. Daggett reached out again and I lifted my knife. Let's see if he could handle iron to the brain.

I spun around and shoved Spruce away from me, he stumbled back but I didn't care. Using what little space I had between Daggett and the wall I jumped, pressing my foot against the concert to launch myself higher and add momentum to my turn. I raised my knife over my head and brought it down, but Daggett vanished from where he had been standing a moment ago. Reappearing he took hold of my shirt and lifted me off the ground, slamming my back into the wall.

"It's okay," Daggett said in a tone that was far to gentle for the situation, "Don't worry. It'll be over quickly."

Daggett moved his large hand to my throat, but froze. Several slow seconds past before he released me and I dropped to the ground. Spruce took hold of my hand and pulled me away from Daggett as he turned away from us, looking behind him. I tilted to one side so I could see what he was looking at. Just around his shoulder I could see Corbett standing in the doorway to the bunker.

"Corbett?" Spruce whispered. His voice was full of amazement and disbelief.

Corbett raced forward, launching himself forward and collided with Daggett. As they struggled a grey white ghostly cloud formed around them, blocking them from sight. The fight pulsed with connect energy, making the air pulse with energy. The cloud grow brighter and brighter, then flashed white hot. I threw up my hand to shield my eyes. A blink later and they were both gone. Spruce and I stood in silence, staring at the spot the two ghosts had vanished.

Dean grunted as he begun to push himself to his feet. I wanted to rush over and help him, but didn't trust my own balance. Dean grunted again, but didn't respond. He turned to me, nodding his head. I nodded back to reassure him I was good.

"All you alright, dude?" Spruce asked. Once Dean was on his feet Spruce spun the camera around to Sam, "You all right?"

"Yeah, fine," Sam muttered, pushing himself to his feet.

"Let's get out of here," Dean said, walking over to Sam to check to see if he was really alright before shinning his light on me. He led the way back up stairs and this time the door opened when he turned the handle.

We found the other three Ghostfacers sitting inside a salt circle in the middle of the Eagle's Nest, looking sad and out of it. They scrambled to their feet, hesitating before stepping out of their circle.

"It's over," I told them.

Someone gently tugged at my sleeve, getting my attention. I looked up to find Sam standing beside me. He inclined his head toward the door, where Dean was already standing, duffle bag in hand. Slowly I walked toward him.

Exhausted and drained, we stepped out of the Morton house and into the light of the new dawn. I trudged down the steps, feeling even more exhausted when I saw the Impala parked near the back of the house. I turned to the Ghostfacers, saying my goodbyes. Sam pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Ed. In the glimpse I caught of it I saw it was one of his business cards, before Sam patted him on the back.

Sam, Dean, and I walked toward the sleek Impala. Dean slid into the front seat and I raced around to the passenger side and slid into the car, slamming the door shut. I heard a soft chuckle from Sam before the back door opened and he angled his long frame inside. I slid down in the seat, propping my knees on the dashboard and starred at the ceiling as Dean started the Impala.

 **Later**

 _In memory of Alan J. Corbett, 1985-2008. King of the Impossible._

Dean, Sam, and I all sat back in our chairs, staring at the computer screen were we had just witnessed the first ever Ghostfacers pilot. Apparently while the Winchester's and I had spent the day sleeping, the Ghostfacers had stayed up to edit their footage. How the hell were they still awake?

"So, guys, what do you think?" Ed asked hopefully, taking a sip of his beer. "You alright?"

"You know, I kind of think it was half awesome," Dean turned in his chair to look at the Ghostfacers behind us, a smile on his lips.

"Half awesome?" Maggie exclaimed, "That's full-on good, right?"

"I'd watch it," I said with a shrug. It was really good, a bit intense, actually.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, "I mean, it's bizarre how ya'll are able to honor Corbett's memory while grossly exploring the manner of his death. Well done."

"Yeah, that's a real tight rope you guys are walking," Dean said. He reached into the bag he had brought with him that contained the massive electromagnet he and Sam had put together. Once he was set, Dean gave us a nod and the three of us stood.

"All right, guys," Sam said as we headed for the door.

"No, that's reality, man," Ed said, stopping us. We turned back around to look at him, "Corbett gave his life searching for the truth, and it is our job over here to share it with the world."

"Right," Sam said, "In our experience, you know what you get when you show the world the truth?"

"Straight jacket," Dean answered, "Or a punch in the face. Sometimes both."

Harry laughed, "Come on, guys, don't be 'Facer haters because we happen to have gotten the footage of the century."

"Oh, yeah," Ed agreed happily. The Ghostfacers all looked at us smugly.

Dean sucked in a breath between his teeth, "You got us there."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. The hint of sarcasm just barely noticeable in his voice.

"Well, we'll see you guys around," Dean said.

Sam waved as they turned to leave. I stood my ground, "Do ya'll think I could have a copy before we go? I wanna show my friends I'm gonna be famous."

"And take credit for it before we release it?" Maggie demanded, "Don't think so."

I gapped at her in horror, "I would never!"

Dean grabbed me around the waist and lifted me off the ground, holding me against his chest. I grabbed hold of his arm in surprise and he spun around so our backs where to the Ghostfacers. He didn't release me as he walked out of the garage, giving the Ghostfacers a wave as the door shut behind us. Laughing, Dean set me down and I skipped away from him toward the Impala.

"We clean?" Sam asked just as several disgruntled and angry 'no' came pouring out of the garage.

"Electromagnet wiped out every tape and hard drive they have," Dean said and we slipped into the car. I was impressed. They were much better with technology then I thought they would be, better than me for sure.

"World just isn't ready for the Ghostfacers," Sam said, getting into the passenger side.

I kept my mouth shut at that comment and climbed into the back. You never know what the world is or isn't ready for until it happens. Like finding out the world isn't flat, or that there are other planets in the sky, but I sure as hell didn't want my face plastered across a television. How else would I do my job? I'm sure Sam and Dean felt the same way, they just didn't want to admit it, hiding behind the 'protecting the world' ploy.

"That's too bad," Dean said, "I kind of like the show."

Sam chuckled softly, "Had its moments."

Very true. The show was a perfect balance of comedy and gruesome horror, well edited and awesome effects. While very tragic with how Corbett had died, I'm pretty sure the show would have gotten picked up fast. No one would have believed it was real, however. Maybe.

We switched to other topics, and Sam pulled out his phone to look for new cases. I scooted forward to look over his shoulder to help pick one out. Dean drove a couple of miles before pulling into a gas station, parking the car by the pump. He sighed, shutting of the car.

"You get the gas, Sammy, and I'll get the grub," Dean turned around in his seat to look at me, "What do you want?"

"Sour gummy worms and sweet Arizona tea," I told him.

"You got it, sweetheart," Dean said opening the car door and stepping out of it.

Sam shot me a smile and I returned it. He got out of the car and walked around to start to fill the tank. Dean started across the parking lot, shouting back to Sam something about rabbit food. I ignored their bickering, swinging my legs up so that the dangled over the front seat and leaned back. I listened to the sounds of Sam working the pump when my phone begun to ring.

I pulled my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans, spotting a unknown number flashing across the screen. I flipped open my phone, "Hello?"

"Hello, darling," a woman with a thick British accent purred into the phone, "It's been too long."

"Not long enough, I'd say," I said through a clenched jaw.

Nearly twenty years and she still kept the same body, the voice exactly the same. I could picture the way one corner of her mouth always came higher than the other as if a permanent sly smile was stuck on her lips, creating a small dimple in her check as it did so. The way the lines around her eyes crinkled when she laughed, making her look older then she was. I could picture her face as if I had seen her yesterday. The vision pained me.

A laugh that was eerily beautiful drifted across the line, "Oh, luv, you have your father's witty tongue. Oh, wait. I'm so sorry. I forgot I kept that after I ripped it from his mouth."

I bit the inside of my cheek, taking a moment to compose myself before saying, "What do you want, Werzelya?"

"You, of course!" The demon sighed, "I want you to give yourself up to me."

"And why would I do that?" I asked.

"Because it's in your blood," I could hear the wicked grin in her voice, "You want to stop me. You have to. And if by chance you think you can just walk away, I do have something you want."

"Oh, yeah?" I asked, fighting the fear that clawed its way into my chest, "And what's that?"

"One moment, luv!" Werzelya said. There was a commotion on the others side of the phone, a door opening. I thought I heard a gasp, maybe someone crying. I tensed, my heart clenched. Please, no, anything but this.

A different voice came on the phone, "True? Is that you?"

"Claire."

There are no words to describe the amount of anger that burned through my veins. She was supposed to be safe. After ten years of keeping her out of the fight, and I get her caught right in the middle of it. How could I have been so stupid? Of course this would have happen. It would always happen. Mess with evil, and evil messed back

I took a deep breath, trying to center my mind. I couldn't lose it now. For Claire's sake I forged iron in my gut and tried to sound as calm as possible, "How did this happen?"

Claire sniffed, "I got a call that said you were in an accident, that I had to come to the hospital. They took me the second I left my dad's house."

I closed my eyes, "Why didn't you call me?"

"I thought you were in the hospital!" Claire sobbed, growing hysterical, "I didn't think!"

"It's okay, baby," I said, "I'm coming for you."

"No, don't!" Her voice broke as she struggled to breathe through her sobs, "Stay away. Please! Don't come for-"

Her voice was cut short. A pause, and then, "If you don't come and get her, she'll be dead within a day."

Through gritted teeth I asked, "Where do you want to meet?"

"There's a warehouse on North Wright Brothers Drive in Salt Lake," the bitch cooed into the phone, "Oh, and if you want to see Claire alive, leave the Winchester behind. Unless you want poor Claire Bear to decorate the walls."

The line went dead, the phone slipping from my grasp and landed in my lap. I sat up, pressing my feet into the floor in front of me. I took a deep breath and ran my fingers through my hair, feeling a calmness washing over me. Getting mad was irrational and I needed a plan on how to save Claire and quick. I would save her, even if it meant my life for hers. I readied myself and slipped out of the car.

Dean had returned, holding onto several white plastic bags filled with road trip food. He smiled at me as he bit into a moon pie and handed me my tea. I smiled thankfully to him and opened it, forcing myself to take a drink. I closed the tea after a gulp and took the gummy worms when Dean offered them to me.

"I have to go to the bathroom," I told Dean, looking him in the eyes, "Can you pop the trunk?"

"Sure," Dean said, handing off the bags to Sam. He walked around to the trunk and stuck his key in the lock, turning it and lifting the hood.

I blimp of guilt spread in my heart at how trusting he was being. I had to open my gummy worms and shove a hand full into my mouth to keep from telling him the truth. I wanted to, I wanted to tell them both, but I couldn't risk Claire. I had to keep them in the dark, no matter how much I hated doing it.

"Thanks," I said, swallowing down the worms and reaching in for my duffle. I slid it over my shoulder. I paused, looking at Dean. He was standing with one hand on the hood, watching me closely. I must have been a better actor then I thought because there was no suspicion in his eyes, "Be right back."

Turning on my heels and rushing across the parking lot. Once I was out of sight I took off running toward the high way. I pushed on as fast as I could, my bag slamming into my back as I went. My body was torn between what to do. Half of me was screaming to go back while the other one ordered me to keep going. I listened to the latter and I didn't look back.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

The sun was sinking behind the warehouse, casting a shadow over the front entrance. The soft sound of cars whizzing by drifted from the streets. I waited as the daylight hours passed, watching as people bustled about the building unaware of whom or what I was. I wasn't sure what I had been expecting. An abandoned building that was crawling with the unnatural, but no, nothing was out of the ordinary. It made it all the worse.

Eventually, the busyness slowed as the day drew to a close and people returned to their cars and left for the day. I sat silently in my own stolen car, wringing my hands on the steering wheel. Long after the last person's taillights vanished, I remained right where I was.

Every part of the hunter in me was screaming that this was a trap. It demanded that I call for back up; claiming that there was no way that Claire was in that building. I knew it was true, but I couldn't risk it. I couldn't risk her.

The ringing of my phone made me jump. I reached for it, examining the caller ID. It was Dean, again, and again I didn't answer. I slid my phone into my pocket, reaching for the door handled as stepped out of the car. I didn't bother locking it as I slammed the door shut. I stepped forward, walking toward the warehouse with all the confidence I could muster.

I went around the back, searching for a window to slip inside rather than a door. I inched around the building, careful to watch in every direction for any movement. I had nearly walked full circle when I crossed a semi truck parked near the loading dock, close enough to the building to get to the windows above it. They were the large windows made up of smaller squares that opened outward rather then up.

I climbed up between the cab and the hitched trailer and pulled myself onto the roof of the truck. I made the one foot jump to the top of the trailer and walked the rest of the way to the window. It was still a foot a above my head, but I was able to put my foot on the side of the building and launch myself high enough to grab hold of the ledge. I pushed in the bottom half of the window and thankfully it wasn't locked. Pushing the window all the way open I pulled myself up and leaned inside, the ledge digging into my stomach as I looked around.

The warehouse consisted of one massive room with rows and rows of shelves stacked with cardboard boxes of every shape and size. There were pallets stacked with more boxes that were saran wrapped together, pallet jacks pushed under the shelves and forklifts parked near the walls. Including a yellow riding one parked right under my window.

I wiggled the rest of the way through the window, spinning my body around as I did. I lowered myself to the full extent of my arms so I was dangling as close to the roof of the forklift as I could get. I angled myself correctly and then let go. The air rushed past me for a brief moment as I dropped, a loud thud echoing throughout the warehouse as I landed. I spun around and jumped to the floor, ducking behind the machine for cover in case anyone heard me.

Peeking out around the forklift, I waited several agonizing moments for anyone to come rushing over. Nobody came. Slowly I inched my way out, reaching into my pocket and pulling out my flashlight. I clicked it on, flashing it around me to illuminate all the shadows. I waited again for anyone to notice the light, but again there wasn't as much as a mouse squeaking.

Confident enough to move around freely, I stood up and begun searching the warehouse. I walked up and down the aisles searching for any sign of Claire. I walked as stealthily as I could, fearing that my footsteps would sound like bombs in the silence of the building. Flashing my light around, I didn't see hide or hair that anything demonic had even been here. I made my way toward the back of the building where I hoped the offices where.

"Hey, kid!" The voice boomed around me, bouncing off the walls before.

I spun around, shinning my light in the direction of the voice as a security guard flashed his own light at me. He marched toward me, stopping about six feet away. He was a scrawny, older guy. He was probably in his late forties, with a face that was a little worn down. His clothes were a size to big and were wrinkled, but his gaze stayed fixed on me.

"You shouldn't be in here," the man said with a sigh, like this wasn't the first time he'd caught someone lurking about.

Unthreatened by my seemingly normal damsel appearance he took another step forward. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, a warning that this man was not what he seemed to be. I steeled myself, taking a deep breath to slow my heart and focus my mind.

"I know," I said, laughing slightly as I inched backwards, "But a dare's a dare."

The man shook his head, walking toward me, "Well, it's not worth a trespassing charge. Come on. Let's get you outta here, sweetheart."

"Well, the thing is," I started to explain, but the man lifted his hand silencing me. I hesitated, sliding my hand into my pocket for my holy water.

He held his hand palm toward me and flicked his wrist to the side. An invisible force yanked me to the side and I crashed into the boxes stacked on the shelf next to me. Whatever this warehouse stored was heavy duty, the boxes barely denting as I plowed through them. I tumbled into the next aisle, falling in a heap among the boxes. I groaned, leaning against one of the boxes to push myself to my feet.

"That game didn't last long," I called. I slid my hand back into my pocket and pulled out my bottle of holy water, flashlight abandoned among the boxes.

"Sorry," The demon called back, his voice moving as we walked to look at me through the hole in the boxes, "I've been waiting for you for so long I got a little excited and couldn't help myself."

"That's okay," I told him, "I hear a lot of men have that problem."

The demon laughed, "So you're the Van Helsing? I'll admit you're prettier than I expected, and a bit underwhelming."

I forced a smile, "I get that a lot."

"I'm only going to ask once," the demon said, stepping closer to the shelf, "You're coming with me. Now."

"That wasn't even asking," I snipped with a sly smile.

I turned on my heel and ran down the aisle. My feet nearly slid out from under me when I tried to stop at the end of the row and made a sharp turn in the opposite direction of the demon, but nearly ended up running right into him. He reached out for me, and I grabbed the man by the wrist of his arm and yanked him forward at the same time I slammed my elbow into his throat. He gagged as his windpipe swelled, blocking the air flow to his lungs. Staggering backward, the demon clutched at his neck. I threw water into his face, instantly smelling the burning flesh of his skin.

"That's what you get for not sayin' please," I said in a sickly sweet tone, "Where is Claire-"

The demon's hand shot up again and the invisible force shot me backward with enough force that I slid across the floor, crashing into the far wall. The blow knocked the air out of my lungs, and they burned with more pain than the actual blow. I forced myself to my feet, keeping my eyes focused on the demon as he advanced. I clenched my fist, realizing I had dropped my holy water. Seeing no other option, I turned on my heels and ran.

"Aw, where are you going?" The demon called after me, "We are just getting started!"

I didn't respond. I ducked behind another row of boxes before making a sharp u-turn and racing back the way I'd come. As I had hoped the demon had vanished, anticipating that I wasn't stupid enough to run toward the danger so he had gone to intercept me. I quickly search the floor for my holy water, spotting it a few feet away. I ran over and snatched it up, holding it against me for dear life. Turning I ran the opposite way, heading toward the back of the warehouse again.

My cell phone rang, catching me off guard. Sliding to a stop, I ducked around another forklift and crouched low to the ground. I pulled out my phone, keeping my holy water at the ready. Seeing that Dean was calling me I flipped my phone open and pressed it to my ear.

"Dean!" I hissed as loud as I dared.

"Tr-?" Dean voice was distorted by static, coming through broken and almost unrecognizable, "Where are-Get- me-"

"Dean, I can't understand you," I told him. There was more static, covering up his response, "Dean?"

"Where- you- True?" Dean tried again, but the line went dead.

"Shit!" I hissed.

"Ollie, Ollie, oxen free," The demon called, his voice getting closer with each word, "Do you really think you can run from me, Helsing?"

Despite my intense desire to respond, I remained silent. I needed to come up with a new plan. My instincts had been right and I'd walked right into a trap. Claire wasn't here and neither was Werzelya, but this was one demon. I could handle him. Exorcizing him was out of the question. I had to find a way to trap him, torture him for information.

I left the safety of the forklift and inched along the wall until I found a door. Opening it quietly I ducked into the room, closing the door as softly as I could. I was in a small office, big enough for a desk with a chair and a couple of filing cabinets. The wall beside the door was made up of a large glass window that over looked the majority of the warehouse. I peaked around the corner and quickly glanced around to see if I could spot the demon but I couldn't.

I rushed over to the desk and pulled open the drawers looking for markers or chalk, anything to draw a devils trap. The only thing I could find was a ballpoint pen. Frustrated, I chucked the pen at the wall. It bounced off the wall and disappeared behind the filing cabinet. I walked back to the window, glancing around again but the demons still hadn't showed up. I leaned against the door and pulled out my phone, dialing Dean's number.

I held the phone to my ear, listening to it ring. I heard the click of the phone being answered just as the door behind me suddenly opened. A shout escaped me as I fell backwards. Someone grabbed me under the arms, catching me just before I hit the ground, and pulled me out of the room. I was spun in a circle and thrown through the window back into the room. The glass shattered, raining down as I fell to the floor. I curled into a ball when I hit the ground, trying to protect my face from the majority of the glass as pieces sliced through my skin.

"You're a hard girl to find," the demon said, "Needn't have bothered. All that bluster and you came-"

"This isn't a game, Dagan," a female voice said, her tone unpleasantly high pitched.

I glanced up to see a woman in her early twenties leaning against the door jam with her head in the room, one hand resting on the doorknob of the office door. She was mildly attractive, with long black hair dangling around her, "We have a job to do."

"Shut up," I muttered. Of course there was another demon. I examined my body to make sure the damage from the window wasn't serious, "Seriously, that girl's voice is annoying."

The demon chick walked forward, grabbing me by the back of my shirt and tossed me face first onto the wall as if I were light as a feather. She kept me pinned there, pressing her elbow into my neck to keep me in place. Shoving my face into the wall with her other hand, she leaned against me to hiss in my ear, "I should kill you right now."

"Then do it," I dared, "And stop being a little bitch."

I brought my foot up and slammed my heel into the demon's foot. It was enough to get her to loosen her grip and I turned away from her, swinging out my elbow. I made contact with her ribcage and she stumbled enough that I was able to duck under her. I rushed to the window and placed my hands on the window, mindful of the glass, and used my arms to bring up the rest of my body and swung through the window. I hit the ground at a run.

The male demon, Dagan, caught up to me and took hold of my arm. He twisted it, forcing me to summersault forward. I landed on my back and rolled on to my stomach and I pushed to my feet. A hand clamped down on my ankle and pulled. I fell forward, catching myself before my face slammed into the concrete floor. I was pulled back ward, my hands scratching along the ground. I was flipped over onto my back, straddling my hips to keep me pinned. He smiled as I struggled to get him off. It was the same kind of wicked smile that demons usually had when they got far too much joy out of someone else pain.

I threw out my hand, my fist slamming against Dagan's face and chest, "Get the hell off me!"

"It would be so easy to snap your neck," Dagan said, grabbing both my wrist in one of his hands and pinning them above my head. With his fee hand he pressed his hand against the right side of my head, driving my left check into the ground, "But it's my job to take you to Werzelya alive, unfortunately."

I attempted to buck him off, but it only made him laugh. The female demon walked over to us, crossing her arms over her chest and giving me a smug smile, "Get her up. Werzelya is waiting."

"This would be easier for you if you don't struggle," Dagan said as the woman handed him rope.

I placed my foot on the back of his ankle and pushed, shoving his knee down and forcing him to release his hold on my hands so he could catch himself before falling on top of me. I grabbed hold of his shirt and pushed myself into a seated position forcing him back. I repositioned myself and pulled him back down, doing a reverse summersault so that I was the one on top. I landed a few good punches before I was yanked back.

My back slammed into the ground and the female demon stood over me. I pulled my legs up to my chest, placing my hands by my ears and forced myself up. My feet slammed into the jaw of the demon and her head whipped back. I landed on my feet with my back to her. I spun, round house kicking her in the head. She stumbled back and I wasted no time landing another kick to her gut, causing her to hunch over.

Dagan got to his feet rushing forward. I did a cartwheel toward him, kicking him in the face with both my feet. I landed upright and I grabbed hold of his shirt and jumped. Wrapping my feet around the knee closest to me I twisted my feet forcing his leg to bend and the weight of me brought us both to the ground. I quickly rolled back on to my feet and slammed my foot into his head.

I turned to face the other demon and she lifted her hand and the invisible force sent me flying backwards, pinning me to the wall. I strained against her hold, feeling like my body would smash into jelly between the wall and the force. I groaned when I was unable to move, leaning my head against the wall. The demon walked over to me, disgust twisting her face into a sneer.

"That's cheating," I told her.

The demon lashed out, her fist cracking against my jaw. My head whipped to the side, the taste of copper filling my mouth before everything went black.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

The gentle hum of tire against black top was familiar but wrong, felling out of place. The gears in my head turned, pulling me from the depths of sleep. My brain dug deeper, pulling forwards glimpse of the warehouse and the demons. My head pounded in response, my nerves waking and my jaw throbbing from the hit. I flexed my jaw, pealing open my eyes to take in my surroundings.

I was lying on my side, hands bound behind my back, in an SUV. It still had that new car smell, not a speck of dirt on the carpet. There was a dark red dot staining the tan seat that I assume was blood that had dripped from my mouth. In the front seats were the two demons from the warehouse, sitting in silence with the man at the wheel. Neither of them so much as glanced in my direction.

I turned my attention to the windows, watching the dark figures of buildings blur past as we cruised along. From my position I couldn't place what glimpse of the night world I saw and a sinking sensation of doom seeped into my heart, freezing me to the bone. The hairs on my arms rose in response, a silent warning against the unknown I was speeding toward. I quickly shoved the feeling away, focusing on the ropes that bound me.

My ankles hadn't been tied, that was their first mistake, but my wrists were bound tightly behind my back. Every time I twisted my hands the rope dug deeper into my skin, rubbing the skin raw. With no other option I slowly slid my knees up to my chest, trying to not make any noticeable movements. The female demon shifted in here seat and I froze, closing my eyes and counting the beats of my heart praying she hadn't noticed I was awake.

I waited as long as I dared before opening my eyes a slit to peek up at her. She was still facing forward, oblivious to me. Inch by inch, I pulled my body into a tight ball. Pulling my wrist as far apart as the rope would let me, I slid the bind down over my butt and around to the back of my knees. I slipped my leg through the space between my arms.

With my hands out in front of me I felt a wave of confidence wash over me, feeling more control of the situation. I turned my attention back to the demons, watching them as I turned onto my back. I scooted toward the driver's side, took a deep breath, and launched into action.

I sat up causing the world spun and my vision blurred and my stomach to flop from the head rush, but I managed to throw my arms over Dagan's head. Pulling the rope tight around his neck, I pinned him to the seat. Blood pumped viscously through my head, worsening the headache that had taken root behind my eyes, but I didn't falter. Dagan slammed his foot on the gas and we rocketed forward, one hand flew to take hold of the rope around his neck while he struggled to control the car with the other. The woman shouted something and reached for me. I stood up as best I could, still keeping the rope around Dagan's neck and slammed my foot into her face. Her head whipped back, colliding with the window. I stretched out my leg, pressing the sole of my shoe into her face to keep her away from me.

I started the exorcism as fast as I could, "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus-"

Dagan slammed on the breaks, the car spinning at a ninety degree angle before coming to a halt. He clawed at my hands, but it was too late. The spell had already begun to draw them out of their vessels bodies. Even the woman was unable to do more then press her hands against her ears and her body arched, anguish distorting her features. Their bodies jerked uncontrollably, the spell yearning to be finished.

"Audi nos!" I shouted the last words with as much force as I could.

Releasing Dagan, I fell back against the seat as black smoke exploded from their bodies. Their mouths opening as wide as humanly possible, their screams ringed in my ears. The air in the car crackled with their demonic energy, pulsing before the smoke shot downward, disappearing into the floor. The vessels sagged into the seats as if relived to be empty again.

I scooted forward, quickly checking the pulse of the humans. The woman was a goner, no surprised from the demon who rode her, but the man had a pulse. It was weak, but it was something. I turned away from them and opened the car door, slipping out into the fresh night air. Other cars had stopped, and people were starting to gather around, gawking in awe. I ignored them, now that I was up right and better able to take in my surroundings, I knew exactly where I was. I was still in Salt Lake, less than a mile from the manor where the fundraiser had been held the night I had meet the Winchesters.

I didn't have time to question rather or not that had been the place the demons had been taking me, I could hear the sirens of the emergency vehicles approaching fast. I ran toward the nearest alleyway, the throng of pedestrians parting like the red sea as I passed. I ducked into the shadows, leaning against a building before examining my still bound hands.

The knot was pretty basic; a few strategic pulls with my teeth and the ropes fell away, pooling at my feet. I rubbed my wrist gently just under the rope burns, taking a moment to re-center myself. The sirens grew closer, the red and blue lights flashing down the alleyway. The sirens died but the lights remained, casting strange shadows around me. Not wanting to get caught by the police I continued down the alleyway, heading toward the manor.

The alleyway came to an end, a wooden fence separating me from the street beyond. It was taller then I was and I had to take a running start at it. Lifting my right leg, I pressed the ball of my foot into the wood, launching myself up. I grabbed hold of the edge of the fence and hoisted myself up and over, landing in a crouch. I surveyed my surroundings, making sure the coast was clear, before breaking into a run. Minutes later I was standing on the sidewalk, staring up at the manor.

The fire had caused a massive amount of damage to the building. The right side of the building was chard black and had caved in, nearly cutting the manor in half. The smell of charred wood engulfed my senses; bring back memories of countless nights spent in the darkest woods camping while on hunts. The acrid remains of the smoke were almost unbearable, and I scrunched my nose at the stench. The police had sectioned of the collapsed area with their yellow caution tape as a warning of the danger.

Taking a deep breath I walked forward, ducking under the tape. I took silent but quick steps as I approached the wall of the manor, climbing over debris with sure steps until I could look into the building. I was standing in what was once a hallway, the burnt remains of the interior were black as coal. What was left of the furniture was scattered and over turned on the floor, a pale reminder of the beauty the manor once held.

Clenching and unclenching my jaw I continued on, the floor creaking under my weight causing me to flinch every time the sound seemed to screech in the silence. If Werzelya had meant to bring me here the house was probably crawling with demons and the thought of being surrounded by them sent a shiver down my spine. I allowed myself a moment, just one moment in the light, to feel the full weight of that fear before I slammed it away and tossed out the key. If Claire really was here I wasn't about to chicken out.

I crept down the hallway, pausing at every loud creak fearful that the boards would snap and I'd fall through. It was slow going as I approached the main entrance of the manor when I heard soft music. I followed the sound, coming to the closed double doors of the ballroom. The doors had not escaped the rage of the fire, though they were not damaged beyond repair. I leaned against the doors, pressing my ear against the wood to hear what was beyond them. I could just make out the few notes of what sounded like Marcha fúnebre's Chopin.

I walked over to the door, reaching for the knob. My fingers slid over the twisted metal, it was cool against my skin and I tightened my hold, twisting it slowly. There was a soft click and I pushed, the double doors winging open wide. The music was louder now, drifting around me like a death march. I wondered if the song had been on repeat so that it would be playing when I arrived.

The ballroom was just as I remembered it, with a high and grand ceiling and beautiful wood floors mostly untouched by the fire. The tables where overturned and pressed up against the walls, except for one table near the door that held an old school boom box that the melody gently played through the speakers. In the center of the room Claire was tied to a chair.

My best-friend-instincts told me to run to her and get her the hell out of here. My hunter instinct new better and screamed _trap_ , _trap_ , _trap,_ over and over. I resisted running to her and examined her chair. It was undamaged, made of polished wood with velvet seat cushions. Claire's hands and feet were bound and her head drooped forward, creating a curtain with her hair and hiding her face. Several strands of her blond hair where streaked crimson red.

Anger twisted into a knot in my chest at the thought that they had hurt my girl, and I clenched my hands into fist. My eyes cut across the room for any threat, but there was no one in the room. I did a quick search around my feet for a weapon and had to settle on a piece of wood I could use as a club. Gripping it tight, I moved toward Claire and knelt down in front of her.

"Claire," I whispered, The alarm bells still went off in my head and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, "Babe?"

I brushed back the strands of her hair, my fingertips smoothing across her warm skin. I tucked the hairs behind her ear and took hold of her chin, tilted her head up so I could get a better look at her face. Other than a cut that ran from her hairline to her eyebrow on the left side of her face she seemed alright. It wasn't deep, wouldn't need stitches.

"Claire?" I whispered again, "Baby, I need you to wake up."

Claire jolted, her head shot up causing her hair to fly across her face. She blinked at me with glossy eyes, the blue a few shades light than normal. At first she looked confused, then her eyes widened when she realized it was me. Panic slid across her face and she shook her head.

"You shouldn't have come, True," Claire mumbled her voice so low I almost didn't hear her, "You shouldn't... shouldn't have... you shouldn't have..."

"Hush," I said, putting down my club to untie her hands, "I'm gunna get you out of here."

"Shouldn't have come, shouldn't have come," Claire whispered over and over.

"I had to come," I told her, freeing her hands and moved to her feet, "I couldn't leave you."

"You're a spitting image of your mother," a familiar voice said from behind me, "Simply beautiful."

I grabbed my club and shot to my feet, spinning around to see a woman standing in the entryway to the ball room. The sight of her nearly brought me back to my knees as a wave of memories washed over me. All the sudden I was six years old again, hiding while the rest of my family was being brutally murdered around me. I gripped my club tighter, the ragged edge of the wood digging into my skin to bring me back to the present. I wasn't a helpless child anymore.

The body Werzelya possessed was tall, about five feet eleven inches, and in her late thirties. Her dark red hair had been pulled into a tight, perfect bun on the top of her head, leaving a few strands loose to frame her heart shaped face. She wore a pressed black pants suit, very unlike the way the owner of the body used to dress. The only inhuman thing about her appearance was the pitch black demon eyes.

I ground my teeth together. It was a bit of a shock that the demon had kept her body for this long. It was kind of poetic, fitting that the Van Helsing children would be murdered by the very person who had brought this curse upon us.

"Admiring the body?" Werzelya asked, smiling as she flicked imaginary dust from her clothes, "Your aunt Rosemary has served me well."

"I bet," I muttered.

"Your parents would be so proud," the demons continued with a voice that was too sweet. I ran my tongue along my teeth as if her words themselves could give me cavities.

I chuckled dryly, "Oh, yeah, their precious daughter who ran away from her problems."

"Don't sell yourself short, Arianna," Werzelya said, "I've heard about the things you've done. Then again, I guess we are all disappointments to our parents."

"Some more than others," I muttered. I gripped my club tighter in my hands, the splinters dug further into the skin of my fingers, "So what now? You call out your dogs to fight your battles?"

"Oh, no, luv," Werzelya made a _tisk_ sound with her tongue. The twisted smile stretched tight and she walked deeper into the room. Her three inch high heels clacking on the hard wood floor as she approached me, "I want you all to myself. I'm sure you're as ready as me for this to be over."

"Actually, I've been pretty bipolar about it," I muttered. I'd gone from wanting to hunter her down to just wanting to survive in less than six months. I don't think anyone is ever really for this moment, except for Werzelya. The anticipation and pleasure she was getting out of this radiates from her like heat. She would enjoy every moment of this. I'd change that. If I was going out, I was going out bloody. I cleared my throat, "You have me, let Claire go."

Werzelya shook her head, "Can't risk you making a break for it once she's gone."

Not wasting any more time I charged at her, swinging my club with as much force as I could muster. I amid for the right side of her face, but she caught the wood mere inches from impact. She ripped it out of my hand, leaving splinters deep within my skin, and tossed it across the room in one smooth movement.

She gave me a disappointed look, "Is that the best you got, luv?"

I gritted my teeth and stepped forward, dropping my shoulder to fake a punch. The demon took the bait and moved to dodge. I spun around and slammed my fist across Werzelya's check, forcing her head to jerk to one side. The demon took a step to the side in an attempt to steady herself. I didn't give her the chance. I jumped, kicking her in the jaw before I dropped to the floor and spun out my leg kicking her feet out from under her. Werzelya toppled to the floor and I launched myself on top of her. I landed punch after punch against her face, splattering drops of blood across the floor.

Werzelya recovered and threw up her arms to block my punches. With lightening fast speed she cupped the sides of my neck and flipped me forward. I somersaulted over the demon and landed on my back, but I kept rolling until I was back on my feet. I spun back around and kicked the back of her knee in and she dropped. I landed a kick to her back then round housed kicked to the face, knocking her flat. I slammed my foot down on her chest, knocking the air out of her.

Werzelya swung out her arm to trip me but I jumped, dodging her arm by a hair. I took hold of her arm and stepped over her. Rolling her on to her stomach, I twisted her arm behind her back. I pressed my knee into her spin to keep her pinned and placed my free hand on her head, leaning all my weight on top of her.

"Exorcizamus te-"

Werzelya ripped her arm free, throwing me off balance. I had to stand, my feet on either side of her body, to keep from falling over. Werzelya rolled onto her back and shot her hand out. I fell backwards from the invisible force, crashing on the ground several feet away. For several moments I was immobilized by the pain. I coughed, gasping for air to feel my lungs. I rolled onto my stomach, sucking air back into my lungs. Werzelya was already on her feet.

"This is just like when you where a child," Werzelya said, whipping at the blood dripping from the corner of her mouth like it was a drop of water, she smiled at me, "When you were just starting to learn out to fight, and your aunt was practicing the basics with you."

I gritted my teeth and remained silent. Werzelya looked at me, her eyes had gone from black to a pale green and amusement sparked within them. She marched over and grabbed my wrists and pulled me to my feet, and then the demon yanked the wrist sharply left, forcing me to my knees. I bit done hard enough on my bottom lip to keep from yelling at the pain that I tasted blood. The demon towered over me, looking down at me with twisted affection.

"She couldn't wait for you to grow up," Werzelya cooed, tucking stray strand of hair behind my ear, "She thought you were going to be such an amazing hunter. Guess she was wrong."

She twisted my wrist a little further and causing a loud _pop_ as the air between my joints where released but didn't break anything. I gasped, taking hold of my arm to try and keeping it from going any farther. The demon knelt down in front of me, using her free hand to gently pull the hem of my shirt up to reveal my anti-possession tattoo. She ran her thumb across the sink and I smacked her hand away.

"I think it's time for an upgrade," Werzelya hissed. She slid her hand behind my head and took hold of my ponytail, pulling so I had to look at her, "I'll wear your meat suit to rip out your sister heart."

I caught a glimpse of the club being swung out of the corner of my eye before it collided with Werzelya's head. Taken by surprise her body jerked to the side, her hold on me releasing. Claire leaned over my and took hold of my hand, yanking me to my feet with the club still gripped tightly in her hand. She looked at me with wide eyes.

Gripping her hand tighter I said, "Run!"

We ran away from Werzelya, and the main doors, to a door near the back of the room. I grabbed the handled and twisted it, pushing open the door and dragging Claire along behind me. It was pointless to run; there would be no escaping Werzelya now that she knew where I was, but if we could get far enough away Claire could get away. If we were out on the streets I could stay back and distract Werzelya, after all it was me she wanted.

Hurrying through the back half of the manor we found the kitchen and sliding glass doors leading out into the back yard. Unlatching the lock, I slid open the doors and shoved Claire out first, urging her forward as I fallowed after. The back hard was sectioned off by a privacy fence, but I didn't pause to try and find the gate. I lead Claire over to the farthest part of the fence before turning to face her and interlocking my fingers together, motioning for her foot.

"Up you go," I told her.

Placing one of her feet into my hands, Claire had to hold on to the top of the fence to keep from wobbling over. The exertion of the run had brought the color back to her cheeks, and her eyes were bright and alert despite that her whole body was shaking with fear. I hoisted her up, lifting my hands to help her swing her leg over the fence. I grabbed on the edge of the fence, the wood digging into my skin. I heard the soft thud of her landing on the other side before I had managed to pull myself up. I swung my body over, landing beside her in a dark alleyway.

"Where do we go?" Claire asked, wrapping her arms tightly around her for security.

"Away," was the only thing I could think to tell her.

Grabbing hold of her hand once again, I pulled her along behind me as I made a break for the street. The moon was high above us; I gathered it was just before midnight form its position in the sky. Assuming the streets would be deserted at this late hour, I didn't pause to look both ways before bolting across the street, not seeing the head lights until it was too late. The sound of screeching tires had me flipping around and pulling Claire into the safety of my arms as a black blur swerved to miss us. The car came to a halt a few feet away, the tail lights like demon eyes watching me. The driver and passenger side doors flew open.

"Are you out of your damn mind?" Dean yelled, storming around the car to glare at me, "I almost hit you!"

"But you didn't," I yelled back automatically. It took my mind a few moments to catch up and the surprise hit me like a car. I blinked in surprise at Dean, "You're here."

Dean throw up his hands in annoyance, but some of the anger had drained from his face, "Of course we came. You just disappeared, what did you think we would do?"

"Not come here for starters," I said, "Werzelya works for Lilith, remember? So you should keep Sam far from her!"

"Where weren't going to abandon you," Sam said.

I didn't have time to respond, the lights of the lamppost begun to flicker. I swiveled around so Claire was behind me, one hand reaching around to protect her. She held onto the fabric of my shirt, burying her head into the back of my shoulder. Her body shook with fear, fresh tears soaking through my shirt. Sam took a step toward us, holding out his hand and motioning us to fallow.

"Time to go," Dean ordered.

I hurried after Sam as he rushed over to the back door of the Impala and pulled it open. I pulled Claire in front of me, placing my hand on her head as I shoved her in side. I barley had the door shut behind me when Dean flipped the car into drive and we jerked forward. Dean took the turns as ninety miles an hour, each time sending Claire and I sidling back and forth across the seat. I bit back my grunts of annoyance, that faster we got out of there the better.

The flickering lamppost fallowed right behind us, the glass of them shattering as the flickering drew closer. A gust of wind from out of nowhere hit the car with enough force that it wobbled and the rear window shattered. I threw my arm across Claire's shoulders, forcing her to bend at the waist as I threw my other hand over my head to shield us from the shattered glass. Shouts came from the front seat and the car stopped so suddenly I was thrown against the back of the front seat, the engine idling before it died.

A heart beat pasted before I slowly sat up, checking Claire for a damage report. She looked at me through strands of blond hair, wide eyed and scared but no permanent physical damage. I turned to the boys. They were sitting motionless in the front seat, eyes glued to the figure standing in front of the car. I watched Werzelya as she tilted her head and smiled, her eyes fixed on me with a look that said time was running out. She lifted one slim hand, beckoning me with a curl of her index finger.

"Don't even think about it," Dean said before I had the chance to move. His hand glided to the key still in the ignition, but when he turned it nothing happened.

"She just wants me," I said. Claire latched on my hand with a viper grip, shaking her head furiously but too frightened to actually speak. I pried her hand away, looking Dean in the eye in the review mirror, "Get Claire out of here."

"Not a chance," Sam said, risking a glance behind him. His warm hazel eyes met mine with a fierce determination, "We're in this together."

"She's just one demon," Dean added, "Not much of a fight."

"And how do you plan on stopping her?" I asked, before they could respond I continued, "We don't all have to die. Just go."

"Don't be stupid!" Dean hissed, reaching over the seat to grab hold of my arm, "You're not going to sacrifice yourself."

"Get out of the car, Arianna!" Werzelya called.

I pulled my arm free and opened the car door. I was about to get out when Sam spun around in his seat, catching me by the wrist, "Get her to toy with you."

I hesitated, my curiosity peaked, "What? Why?"

"A distraction," Sam said.

"A distraction for what?" I asked.

"Plan B," Sam said softly, "Go."

I wanted to ask what plan B was, but instead I got out of the car as ordered. Slamming the car door behind me, I tried to think of a way to keep Werzelya interested in the game. I walked to the front of the Impala, crossing my arms over my chest and smiling sweetly at her, "Miss me?"

Werzelya's smile grew and she tucked her hands behind her back, opening her mouth to speak. There was a bang and almost simultaneously Werzelya's head whipped backwards. She took a single step back before lifting her head, sporting a clean bullet hole between her eyes. A single drop of blood ran down the side of her nose, dripping from her chin. Her eyes were focused behind me, a look of pure rage distorting her face. I turned to see that Dean had gotten out of the Impala, his gun fixed on Werzelya.

"We both know those bullets can't hurt me," Werzelya said, whipping the blood from her face. Her own curiosities clear on her face, "You don't have the Colt anymore, Winchester."

With Werzelya distracted I turned on my heels and ran at her, swinging out my leg and kicking Werzelya in the chest. The demon stumbled, but caught her footing and turned to glare at me. She lifted her hand, but I knocked it to the side. I lifted my knee, bringing my foot down on her ankle. The joints of her foot caved in with a sickening crack, but she still managed to bring up her other hand.

She flicked her wrist but the force of her sending me backwards was damped but Sam stepping up beside us and splashing holy water across her face, causing me to only fly back about a yard. I hit the ground and aloud the momentum to roll until I was on my feet again just as Werzelya sent Sam flying at me. Reflect kicked in and I ducked, missing a collision with Sam by a hair as he landed on the hood of the Impala.

"No fair bringing backup," Werzelya pouted, blinking innocently at me, "That's cheating."

"Says the one with the demonic powers," I pointed out.

"That's not my fault," Werzelya said, looking at me innocently. She waited for a response and when I didn't give her one she sighed, "How can I make it up to you?"

"You could start by telling us how my father exorcized you," I offered.

Werzelya laughed, turning her attention to her nails as if the topic bored her, "Or I could start by telling you how I killed your parents. Or sweet, little Indigo? How old was he at the time? Fourteen?"

She got the reaction she wanted. Fresh anger bubbled up inside of me and I rushed forward. I pulled back my fist and threw it at Werzelya's face. She caught me by the wrist and twisted my arm, sending a sharp pain shooting from my finger tips to my shoulder joint. I pulled back, and Dean was there. He brought his arm up and slammed his fist across Werzelya's face. The blow sent her head to the side, but her grip didn't waiver. I kicked out, slamming my foot into her rips causing her body to hunch over. Dean grabbed the back of the demons head and brought up his knee into her face, bone collided with bone.

Werzelya released my wrist and I stepped back. I brought my leg across the demon's face, and then Dean landed an uppercut to her jaw. Werzelya took a step back and I punched her in the chest, hearing the crack of her sternum. I grabbed the back of her head to hold her still and slammed my elbow into her face. I took a step away from her and pulled back my leg again, aiming for her chest.

Werzelya caught my leg and turned, dragging me with her. With the momentum of the spin she threw me across the street and I landed on my side on the sidewalk. I sat up, clutching at my side and struggling to breathe. I took slow breaths to keep the pain at a minimum, watching as Werzelya curled her fingers around Dean's throat.

"You foolish boys," Werzelya was saying, her voice tight with anger as she tried to sound calm, "You should never have come after her."

I staggered to my feet as Sam rushed forward with his holy water again. Werzelya flinched away from him, releasing Dean. Sam pulled Dean to his feet and they took several steps back. Werzelya flicked some of the water from her face with a finger, the water burning the flesh of her hand.

"Are you gonna let these boy's fight your battle, Arianna?" Werzelya called, sounding like a kid in a candy store. She wasn't at all worried she'd lose this fight.

"What's the point?" I asked breathlessly. I shrugged, feeling like a moths trapped by the light of a bug zapper, then wincing at the pain, "You're a demon, clearly we can't win."

"Aw, but its so fun watching you try!" Werzelya laughed.

I sighed, suppressing a laugh. Echo rolled so she was seated beside me, and turned to examine me. This was useless; we couldn't beat her to death. Nothing we did would affect her. Echo seemed to read my thoughts because she leaned forwards, "When I say, run for the front door. We have to keep her distracted."

"Answer me one question," I said, "Why send a couple lower class demons after me instead of just coming after me yourself? Why not tell me to meet you at the manor?"

"Trying to distract me, luv?" Werzelya asked, her eyes flicking in the direction of the Winchesters, "Trying to come up with a better game plan?"

"Just curious," I said.

"I wasn't sure if you'd actually come alone," The demon said, "I couldn't risk you and the Winchesters setting a trap, though clearly it didn't matter."

"I thought Lilith was looking for the boys," I said pointed out, "Wouldn't she want to know where they are?"

"Don't worry about that," Werzelya said, turning her evil smirk to the boys, "Lilith has a plan for you, Winchesters. In time you'll be right where you are supposed to be."

"Care to elaborate on your dastardly plans?" I asked.

Werzelya laughed, "I don't think so."

"Call it my dying wish," I continued.

The demon stepped forward. The sureness of her steps was slightly intimidating but I swallowed my self-doubt and rushed forward, landing another kick to her head. I turned to back hand her, but Werzelya threw up her arm to block. She swung out her fist but I dodged it, ducking to the right and slamming my own fist into her side, just below her rib cage. The demon gasped and hunched over.

Dean launched into motion, quickly slipped behind her and kicked the back of her knee in forcing her to her knees. I wrapped one of my arms around her neck, just under her chin and pulled it tight against her throat, wrapping my other arm around my wrist to use the strength of both of them to keep her in the headlock. Dean slammed her fist against the demon's face a few times.

"Now!" Dean yelled.

Ruby appeared next to Werzelya, demon killing knife in hand. Ruby swung out her arm, aiming to stab Werzelya in the gut, but Werzelya was faster. She caught Ruby's wrist and reached around grabbing a fist full of my hair. Werzelya yanked hard enough that I felt the hairs being ripped from my head and I released my hold, grabbing my hair to keep her from tearing a chunk of it out. Once she was free of me, Werzelya uppercut Ruby then turned and sent Dean flying back with a flick of her wrist.

Werzelya got to her feet and held out her hand forcing Ruby to fly backward, slamming through the window of the building behind her. Sam came walking back over from the car; he lifted a shotgun and aimed. He didn't hesitate to pull the trigger but Werzelya was already gone before the rock salt left the barrel.

I turned my attention to where Ruby had been standing and spotted the knife lying on the black top only a few yards away. I made a move for Ruby's knife but Werzelya popped out in front of me and I staggered to a stop. She narrowed her eyes at me, looking smug. I held up my middle finger for her to see.

Werzelya lips pulled back in a sneer and she swung out her leg and I threw my body backward, bending over into a bridge. I kicked off the ground, bringing my feet up and nailing Werzelya in the chin. The hit didn't slow my momentum and I went heels over head until my feet hit the ground and I was standing up right. Werzelya advanced again and again, and I hardly had time to block.

Dean had gotten over to the car and gotten a shot gun of his own and raced toward us. Werzelya held up her hand again and sent him flying across the hood of the impala before he was able to raise his gone. I fought the desire to check on him and kept my attention on Werzelya, trying to keep her focus off Sam who lifted his gun again.

Werzelya spun, catching the barrel of the gun and ripping it from Sam's hands before using it as a club and striking the butt of it across Sam's face. His head spun to the side with enough force his body fallowed after him and his body slammed against the blacktop. He didn't move, only the subtle rise and fall of his back told me he was still alive. Werzelya turned back to me, tossing the gun to the side.

"No more games, luv," Werzelya said, "You're going to die today."

"True!" Ruby called.

I turned just as she threw her knife. I caught it, my fingers closing around the smooth handle, just as Werzelya flicked her wrist and I was flung backwards. I slammed into the side of the impala, feeling the metal cave in from the force leaving a dent behind. Werzelya was on my in a second, kicking the knife from my hands. She startled me, closing her fist around my throat. I struggled against her grip, trying to pull myself free. Dark blots started to from at the corners of my vision, my body shutting down from lack of oxygen.

"What are you waiting for?" Dean yelled from somewhere to my right, his voice sounding far away, "Stab the bitch!"

Werzelya gasped, her body bent backwards in pain, letting go of me. I gaped up at her and she blinked in confusion, pulling away from me so she could turn around. In her back, right where her heart was, there was a dark stain, her jacket torn. Her body pulsed and she sat back on her heels, turning back to face me. Her twisted soul lighting up the inside of its vessel, flashes like an x-ray revealed the skeleton beneath. Werzelya looked at me with those pale green eyes and for a moment I could have sworn I saw my aunt in them.

I scrambled backwards away from her and someone grabbed me under my arms and pulled me to my feet. I was wrapped in a viper grip, unable to turn away as Werzelya pulsed again. She fell to the floor, her lifeless body. I watched in shocked silence as blood begun to pull around her. Somewhere in the room I could hear Echo's voice finishing of an exorcism and demon smoke exploded over our heads, and empty vessels fell to the ground. I couldn't bring myself to care if they were alive or dead.

I looked for the culprit who had stabbed her and found Claire standing over her body. My mouth fell open in utter shock at the sight, mildly impressed with her. She looked at me with round eyes, tears streaking down her face. She looked down at the blood stained knife and dropped it as if it were going to bite her. It clattered to the floor, echoing in the silence. Some of my aunt's blood had gotten on her hand and she begun feverishly whipping her hands on her jeans.

I shoved away from the arms that bound me, not knowing that it had been Dean until I reached Claire, wrapping her in a tight hug. Claire wrapped her arms around my waist, squeezing me tightly against her. Her knees buckled and she dropped, dragging me with her. Claire curled into a ball on my lap her shoulders shook with silent sobs and her tears soaked into my shirt. I folded myself over her, holding her close.

Ruby walked over and picked up her knife, whipping it on her clothes before turning on her heel and walking across the room. She stopped briefly by Sam's side to exchange words before she vanished out the ball room door. Sam turned toward us and walked over.

"True?" Sam said gently from beside me, "Let me take her."

I nodded as I straighten, allowing Sam to reach around me and pull Claire's arms free of my waist. It wasn't a hard challenge considering how exhausted she was, and her arms slid away from me. Sam lifted her into his arms and headed for the door. I tried to get to my feet and fallow after, but my legs shock and I fell to my knees.

"Come on," Dean said, holding out his hand to take.

I slid my hand into his and Dean hauled me to my feet. He turned me away from my aunt's body, taking me toward the opened back door of the impala and Sam laid Claire inside. I slid in beside Claire who rested her head against my shoulder and took my hand in hers. Dean started the impala and this time it turned on. We pulled away, racing away from the scene.

"Does this mean it's over?" Claire whispered.

I opened my mouth but no words came out. It _was_ over, finally. Suddenly Werzelya was dead. A blink of an eye and my family had been avenged; bring an end to a twenty year battle for survival. Only it didn't _feel_ like it was over. There was still something there, in the back of my mind, like I was still being watched. I pulled away from Claire to glance out the back window. Standing over my aunt's body was a human shaped shadow watching us.

"You okay back there?" Dean asked. I turned around to see him staring at me in the rearview mirror.

"Dean, there's-" The words got caught in my throat. I cleared it and tried again, but I couldn't say that I thought someone was fallowing us. Frustrated, I tried again and again, but the words wouldn't come out. Something was stopping me and when I opened my mouth again something different came tumbling out, "How did you know where I was?"

"You said you where in Salt Lake when I tried calling," Dean said, turning his attention back to the road, unaware that anything was wrong, "It wasn't hard to figure out from there."

"Heh, well, we need to get Claire to a hospital," I said, still unable to tell him about the sketchy figure I had seen.

If it wasn't one think it was the other. Here I was, free of the demon who had been the bane of my existence, and I couldn't even tell the boys about a stupid figure standing over her body? For all I knew it could be another demon, it could have been Lilith. It wasn't. I didn't know how I knew, but I did. Something else was lurking beyond my reach.

I turned to Claire. She was hunched against her door, passed out from exhaustion. She looked so at peace, surprising considering she just ganked her first demon. I wanted to shake her away and tell _her_ about the shadow, but still I couldn't.

"She needs medical attention," I said.

"It's not safe here anymore," Dean said, shaking his head as he turned the wheel so we were rocketing down an empty back street, "We don't know if Werzelya had any other demons with her, or if Lilith knew about this. We can't stay in Utah."

"I don't know if you noticed, but Claire kind of lives here," I said sarcastically.

I didn't care if we drove all the way to Florida if it meant Claire was safe, but I was frustrated about not being able to tell them about the shadow figure and I was taking it out on Dean. I didn't want to lie and I didn't like the fact that I was being forced, I couldn't even tell them I thought that I was being fallowed. It had to be a spell of some sort that was preventing me from mentioning it, but spells could be broken. They also left a distinct imprint of who had cast them. If I was cursed, I'd be able to find the witch.

"We have to get somewhere safe," Sam said with that gentle voice of his, trying to calm the tension I was creating, "Until we know for sure no one is going to come after you."

"Where?" I demanded.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Hi, everyone! Sorry I haven't posted new chapters but I've been having trouble with my internet but now its back! Yay! LOL anyway, so the next few chapters dive a little deeper into True's psyche and past. Soooooooooooo here we go!**

 **Chapter Twenty-Five**

The longer I sat in the backseat of the Impala, the more the world seemed to weigh on me. I told myself over and over that I didn't care, this had been nothing. I had moved past this a long time ago, but the thoughts played again and again in my head. I couldn't escape them, no wall would block them, and no box would hold them. Memories I had suppressed fluttered like moths to a flame, burning as they crossed my mind.

In the heat of the moment, when I was facing Werzelya, I had something to focus on. I had to save Claire, I had to stay alive. That was it. But now I had nothing. Every time I closed my eyes flashes of my past caused a cold knot of steel to twist itself in my chest. I tried to focus on Claire, making sure she was ok. Listening to the classic rock on the radio or Sam and Dean talking, but nothing held my attention.

On the way out of town we had stopped by the same gas station we had so long ago, the day we had been attacked by demon's at Claire's old apartment. Leaning against the Impala, looking at the building it felt like it had been a lifetime ago. It was a dream, a memory that belonged to someone else, and I was just a witness.

With the tank full of gas, we piled back into the Impala. It seemed smaller somehow with four people crammed into it. Sam getting into the back seat to examined Claire, with me in the front seat. I turned to face them as he tucked stray hair away from her face to examine the cut, dabbing at it with a alcohol wipe. I had been right, it wasn't deep. All of her injuries were superficial; she didn't need a hospital, just rest.

Dean mentioned something about getting a motel a few towns away, to be safe. I didn't have the energy to argue. I didn't argue about the fast food restaurant we swung by or demanded that Dean make an extra pit stop because Claire hadn't needed to go pee at the last one. I didn't speak up to take Sam's side when he tried to convince Dean that stopping to get the rear window fixed on the Impala was not a priority. In fact, I hardly talked at all.

Dean and Sam were silent, perhaps content to let me _cope_ in peace, and taking turns driving so that the other could get some shut eye. I wondered how far we were supposed to be going, but didn't ask. Claire was fast asleep, and I was supposed to be, but I had too much on my mind to even try. I had offered my services to Dean, informing him that I was an excellent driver and would be more than happy to drive so he and Sam could both rest, but was quickly educated to the fact that no one drives his baby but him and occasionally Sam.

I resigned to my fate to just sit there in silence, but I could feel the brother's eyes on me. I wanted to tell them I was fine, that I could move on with my life, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything. The things inside my head were not things I was ready to talk about, not until I could shove them back down. I thought about the figure standing over my aunts vacant body, how I hadn't been able to tell them.

I clenched and unclenched my jaw, thinking about that figure. There was nothing about the past that I could do, but the figure was something I could fight. I tried to think of all the times that I had felt like someone was watching me. Like the night after Gordon had kidnapped me and I had woken from a nightmare to a shadow in my hotel room. I'd thought it had just been a dream, but maybe it was my friendly neighborhood stalker. All the times I had felt like I was being watched and had assumed it was Werzelya or someone working for her. Something was working behind the curtain.

I was making myself paranoid dwelling on it and it was exhausting. Every time some stranger even glanced in my direction at a rest stops I had to resist storming up to them and demanding what the hell they were staring at. _Every Breath You Take_ by the Police had become my theme song and there was no escaping the feeling that even though I didn't feel like I was being watched, I was sure someone had to be watching me.

Claire on the other hand, after she woke from a four hour nap, seemed surprisingly at ease. Considering the fact she was at an unknown location with two men she barely knew, I figured she'd be sticking close to my side. Instead she was sticking close by Sam's, dragging him along to the bathroom or inside a restaurant when they forgot her ketchup. All the while he would throw me a pleading look to intervene and, despite my current state of mind, I had to admit it was funny.

I turned my attention to my cell phone, burning up the minutes by Googling witchcraft and spells to prevent speech. Nothing I found was conclusive, mostly new age, what I needed was ancient magic. I got so wrapped up in what I was reading I didn't noticed that we had reached the motel in the evening hours of the day. Claire had to snap her fingers in front of my face to get my attention. The Winchesters got out of the car first, walking around to the trunk to get the bags. I reached for the door to follow after.

"True, wait a minute," Claire said, resting her hand on my arm.

"What's up, hero?" I asked, forging a smile.

"I'm not a hero," Claire said modestly.

"Shut up, because you are," I teased, "You saved the Van Helsing bloodline. So, thank you."

"You're welcome," Claire said, smiling more to herself then me, "It was nothing, and you've saved me plenty of times."

"So that was what, payback?" I joked, trying a little too hard to pretend I was okay, "If I hadn't saved you, you wouldn't have saved me?"

"You know what I mean," Claire said, shaking her head.

"Ok," I reached for the door again.

"They got adjoining rooms, but our room only has one bed," Claire rushed out, causing me to turn back around to look at her, "We're in room nineteen."

"They already got the rooms?" I asked, trying to remember when either of them had gotten out of the car.

Claire was quite a long moment, pressing her lips into a thin line before saying, "Are you alright? I mean, really?"

"I'm trying to be," I admitted with another forced smile, "Just need some rest, time to process. I've been awake for over twenty-four hours."

"I've seen you run on nearly seventy-two hours without sleep, True," Claire said, her voice taking on a seriously worried tone, "This isn't like that. You're practically a drunk when you're tired, but this- this is how you get when you're on a mission."

"You've been with me the whole time," I reminded her as deep ache settled in my chest, reminding me what I had managed to put aside. She knew me to well and could see right past my smile, but I wasn't ready to tell her, "I haven't looked for another job. What mission could I possibly be on?"

"You've been on the phone a long time," Claire said solemnly, "But something is the matter and I don't know why you feel you have to hide it from me, but I promise that whatever it is, I can help. Maybe not in the hunter way, but I can carry some of the burden so you don't have to."

I pulled her into my arms, hugging her tightly. The sound of the trunk vibrated around us, causing the car to shake slightly. I ignored the shadows of the boys as they walked around the car, heading to a hotel room, "I'll tell you when I'm ready."

Claire pulled away from me, "I know you just want to protect me, but I don't need protecting!"

"That's not what this is about," I said, taken aback by her sudden flare of anger.

"You're always trying to take care of me," Claire continued as if I hadn't spoken, her voice rising with every word, "I don't need you to!"

I don't know where this was all coming from or how she had gotten that I was trying to hide something from her to protect her, but I was too drained to try and figure it out. Her annoyance made me annoyed, my usual calm demeanor slipping away like sand through my fingers. I slid back across the seat so I could look her up and down, waiving my hand to indicate the shape she was in.

"Last night says otherwise," I told her, "You didn't think. You could have gotten us both killed."

"Yeah, well, you didn't have to save me!" Claire yelled.

"And what were my other options?" I demanded, "Just let you die?"

"I don't know!" Claire yelled, tears brimming her eyes, "Maybe if you trained me, I wouldn't be so stupid!"

"Oh, like that's a good idea," I snapped. I couldn't allow her to get any stupid ideas into her head. Yes, she knew about the supernatural world, but she wasn't a part of it. She didn't understand how the underworld worked, and the dangers that lurked in every shadow. "I've already told you I don't want this life for you."

"It's too late for that!" Claire wiped a furious tear from her cheek, "As long as you're in my life I'm a part of this."

"Then maybe I shouldn't be in your life!" I shouted. I regretted the words the second I said them. If it were possible I would have shoved them back into my mouth and chewed them up and spat them into the trash where they belonged, but I was to angry to stop now. All the frustration and pain had broken free, let lose upon the world, "Clearly it's too dangerous. I can't afford to keep running after you every time you get into trouble."

"I'm sorry that having to save me is such an inconvenience to you!" Claire yelled before throwing open the door and getting out, slamming it shut behind her.

"Damn it!" I screamed, slamming my fist uselessly against the car seat in front of me.

I turned my hands toward myself, pressing my palms into my eyes. I took long, slow breaths, feeling the anger. I didn't want to feel this, I hated it. This feeling, this pain, I had to get rid of it. I threw open the car door and stepped out.

Claire and the Winchesters had gone into the hotel room, leaving me alone in the falling light of the sun. The cold night air chilled my skin, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I did a quick stretch, loosening my muscles from sitting in the car for so long. When I was ready I pushed of, breaking out into a sprint as I rounded the motel. I wasn't going to go far, just around the block a few times.

I got lost in the run as I headed down the sidewalk, swerved between cars parked along the street before ducking down an alley to run past the back of the motel. It was quite out in the night, the world a sleep and only the bugs were still busy at work. My mind was quieted by the sound of my blood pounding in my ears, my muscles happily burning as they did their job.

 _Indigo loved to run_.

I staggered to a stop, panting hard. A cold knot of steel twisted in my heart at the thought that came swinging at me from out of nowhere. I looked around as if I could see where it had come from, or to get rid of it. My eyes burned, seeking the release of tears, but none would come. The need to cry was overwhelming and I willed the dam to break, but still no tears. I turned in a circle, before turning and walking over to the wood fence that lined the alley across from the hotel.

I walked over, placing my hand against the hard wood to mark the spot. Pulling my hand back, I closed it into a fist and slammed it into the fence. Pain shot from my knuckles to halfway up my arm, and the steel knot loosened. I hit the fence again and again, alternating between my fists to beat away the pain.

I punched for the fight Claire and I had had, because Werzelya had taken everything from me. I punched for Echo who I had lost without losing, for Dean who I was about to lose. I slammed my fist harder and harder into the wood, thinking about what the Circle had done and what this world was. I didn't stop, even after the skin of my hands tore open and bled, staining the wood crimson.

"True, stop!" Sam called, the sound of his footsteps crunching on the dirt as he approached. I didn't.

Sam wrapped his arms around me, halting my assault on the fence. I struggled against his hold, breaking away from him. He managed to keep hold of my forearm and when I tried to run, he yanked me back toward him. I collided with his chest and he wrapped his arms around me, pinning me against him. The last of my desire to flight drained from my limbs and I sagged against him.

I clung to Sam, taking fists full of his jackets in my hands. His height and broad shoulders engulfed me, making me feel warm and safe. I wanted to cry again, my shoulders shaking with the need of it. The anger and pain was too much for me to stomach, the cold knot in my chest spreading. I buried my face into Sam's chest, letting the cold rage out of control until it had numbed me. Exhausted, my knees buckled. Sam held me up, running his hands over my hair.

"Come on," Sam said, loosening his hold enough to turn me toward the mouth of the alleyway.

Sam kept one of his arms draped over my shoulders, the other clutching the arm that was pinned against his side to keep me on my feet. He walked us around to the front of the motel, stopping by the driver's side door of the Impala. Sam loosened his hold a little more, leaning me against the car as if I would fall at in moment.

"Wait here," Sam instructed.

He took off back toward his room before I had time to respond, disappearing inside. I did as I was told, starring down at my bruised and bleeding knuckles. I heard a door close and glanced up to see Sam coming back out, car keys and first aid kit in hand. Sam unlocked the driver's door, ushering me to sit down.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sam asked, kneeling in front of me and setting down the first aid kit on the black top. He popped the box open, digging around in the contents.

"There's nothing to talk about," I said softly, "My aunt died twenty years ago. I mourned her, I moved on."

"True," Sam said gently. I couldn't tell if he was saying my name or stating what I said as the truth. He opened an alcohol wipe, tossing the wrapper back into the box. He took my hand in his, dabbing at the wound. I flinched at the pain as the disinfectant got to work, but didn't pull my hand away. After a moment Sam continued, "I meant about Indigo."

I froze, looking up at Sam through my lashes. I was caught somewhere between shock and horror, though I shouldn't have been surprised that Sam was the one who deduced the real problem here. I shook my head, "There's nothing to talk about."

"I think there is," Sam said, exchanging the used alcohol wipe for a new one and starting on my other hand.

"Of course you do," I muttered, "Let me rephrase, I don't _want_ to talk about it."

"I get that," Sam sighed, moving on to the antibiotic cream, "If my brother had died when he was fourteen, I wouldn't want to talk about it either."

"I never did," I whispered, more to myself then to him, "Not to Echo, or anyone. Not even Claire."

The numbness faltered. I quickly dug around inside my head, finding my emotional box. I opened it, shoving in the pain and anger before it could take over. Once it was inside, I slammed the door shut and buried it deeper. The box rattled, the memories still to fresh to ignore.

"They told me it was a mistake," I whispered, closing my eyes and picturing Indy in my mind. The way his dark brown hair always fell in his eyes, his freckled nose, and the smile that always touched his brown eyes. I gritted my teeth at the memory, "He was never supposed to be there, he was never supposed to die."

I paused as the memories continued to wash over me like a sickness. Reading to him before bed, chasing after him while playing hide-and-seek in the forest behind our house, teaching him how to do a running back flip off a wall. Being the second youngest at the time meant I was the one who looked after the kid while everyone else was off on hunts. For so long it had just been him and me. He was my responsibility, and I hadn't been there to save him.

My stomach turned and pain throbbed in my chest. I watched Sam bandage my hands, trying to find the strength to continue. Sam didn't rush me, keeping his focus on my hands. I waited until he was done before continuing, shoving the box deeper as Sam sat back on his heels to focus his hazel eyes on me.

"I believed them," I said, my voice shaking and my anger building, my voice rising, "He was a kid who wanted to prove he was a man, why wouldn't he do something stupid? She did horrible things to him, tortured him. I saw his body…"

I closed my hands into fist, the skin stretching across my knuckles burned. I had to take several deep breaths to try and calm down, but it was no use. Sam placed a supporting hand on my knee, and I focused on his relaxed composer. I lost track of the time as it passed before I was able to continue.

"It was a lie," I said through gritted teeth, "The Circle had sent him as bait, to lore Werzelya out. They acted like they were sorry he was dead, but they didn't care. They only cared that they didn't get their demon. I'd tried to tell Echo, but she didn't believe me. We got into this huge fight about it, told me I was being foolish. _Childish_! How could the Circle do something so heartless? I couldn't stay. I couldn't pretend that everything was okay. If I stayed, I would have killed them. All of them. I hate them! I always have!"

Sam shot up onto his knees, pulling me into another hug. He rubbed his hand up and down my back, trying to sooth the rage I had let lose. I'd spent years trying to keep it at bay. There was nothing I could do about it now; I just needed to move on. I had been kidding myself. The anger was still there, towards both Echo and the Circle. I wanted to hurt them, to make them feel the loss that I had.

I had been in denial that killing Werzelya had meant nothing to me, that revenge wouldn't make anything better. It didn't fill the emptiness inside of me, or bring my family back, but she was dead. I'd stood over her lifeless body and had survived when so many had failed. It felt good to know that she was gone. Now if I could only make the Circle pay for what they had done.

The thought felt foreign in my head, like it wasn't really my thought. I could feel eyes on me again, and they weren't Sam's. I pushed Sam away and stood, forcing Sam to do the same. He stepped out of my way as I moved past him and looked around us. There was no one, nothing. I pressed my hands against my temples, a headache forming behind my eyes.

"True-" Sam reached out and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"I just want to go to bed, Sam," I said, stepping out of his reach.

Sam didn't try to stop me as I walked back to my room, opening the door to find Claire fast asleep on the bed. I crawled into the other bed, lying on my back and staring at the ceiling, trying not to think. I felt Claire stiffen, awoken by my presence. I wrapped myself around her, resting my head on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"I know," Claire said softly, "Me too."

"I don't think you're stupid," I said, then scoffed. I was a fool to think that I could keep the business separated from the family, just another mental mistake to add to the pile. She was right, she wasn't safe. "I'll teach you how to fend off evil, if you promise not to hunt it."

"I promise not to hunt evil, if you promise not to keep secrets from me," Claire whispered, bring the conversation full circle.

"I'm not trying to keep secrets from you," I said, "I just need time."

Claire fell silent and I rolled away from her, turning my back to her. I laid in the silence of the room, still wide awake despite how badly my body wanted to sleep. My mind was far too busy to stop long enough for peace. I tossed and turned as the hours passed and pale yellow light poured into the little room, finally I started to drift. I was awakened by the sound of Claire leaving the room, but I couldn't bring myself to lift my head. I closed my eyes, drifting back into bliss.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

"What?" Sam demanded suddenly, ripping me from a light sleep, "Chocolate chip cookies are better than oatmeal cookies!"

I waited a few moments before I rolled out of bed, knowing I wouldn't be able to get any more sleep. I reached my hands over my head in a long stretch, my aching bones popping as my joints rolled. I listened, just making out the sound of Claire's scoff.

"I admit," Claire said from the other room, "There is something to the gooey goodness of chocolate chips, but warm raisin oatmeal goodness is _so_ better!"

I stood, walking over to the adjacent door and peered into the Winchesters room. Claire and Sam where sitting at the table near the window, fast food in between them. I could smell the bacon and coffee from my position, but the thought of food wasn't appealing. I glance around the room but Dean wasn't in there.

"You're insane," Sam said, shaking his head in amusement and causing strands of his hair to fall in his eyes.

A part of me wanted to turn back around and crawl into bed, but since I didn't feel alone, I didn't want to be alone. I turned around and reached into my duffle bag and dug out a pair of jean shorts and an over sized shirt that hung of my shoulder. I changed out of my pajamas, tossing the used clothes aside.

I faced the adjoining door, but before I joined the others I double checked my emotional box. It was silent, resting in the depths of my mind, but I could feel it pulsing. The pain was just under the surface and it would take time to control it again. I took a several deep breaths, closing my eyes, when I was ready I walked into the other room.

"Oatmeal cookies are the best," Claire insisted.

"I agree that they are good," Sam said, "but nothing is better than chocolate chip."

"Why are you guys arguing about a damn cookie?" I asked, walking toward them. They both turned to welcome me with looks of worry and pity.

"I, uh, don't really remember," Claire said, blushing behind her ears as she glanced at Sam out of the corner of her eyes. It was the blush she got when she was developing a crush. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear when she noticed me looking, "I was about to come check on you."

"I'm fine," I smiled and pushed gently at Sam's arm with mock embarrassment, "I'm better."

"Good," Sam said softly.

"You where a bit out of it yesterday," Claire re-informed me.

"Considering the fact that my best friend killed my worst enemy, I think I'm doing pretty well," I said, smiling at her.

Claire smiled back, but it didn't reach her eyes. She was still upset about our fight which only made me feel like a bitch for arguing with her. I reached out and took one of the coffee cups off the table to give myself something to do. Bringing it to my lips, I took a sip. The liquid was room temp. I put the cup down, making a face at it.

"Yeah," Sam said, chuckling slightly before clearing his throat, "Uh, anyway, Dean got us breakfast if you're hungry."

I pursed my lips at Sam as he offered me a Styrofoam plate of food. With both their eyes on me, I sat at the table and forced myself to pick up a fork and start eating. The food tasted bland and each swallow was a challenge. I had managed to eat half before I couldn't take another bite without throwing it up.

"What did you do to your hands?" Claire asked suddenly, talking my wrist in her hand and examine the bandage.

"I punched a fence," I said, pushing the plate away and taking my hand back, "Where's Dean?"

"He's out working on the Impala," Sam said, "Wanted to make sure the demon didn't mess anything up."

"Why were you punching a fence?" Claire demanded.

"Just working out some issues," I said, standing quickly and heading for the door, "I'll go check on Dean."

I pulled open the door, slipping out. I took hold of the door knob to close the door behind me, but I heard Claire whisper, "Don't worry, she'll be fine."

"True, wait," Sam called, slipping out of the room and closing the door behind him. I waited until he was in front of me. He looked at me, sliding his hands into the back pockets of his jean, "What happened with Indigo, it wasn't your fault."

"He was my responsibility and I failed him," I said.

Sam scoffed, giving me a pity filled look, "You and Dean are a lot alike. He thinks I'm his responsibility, too."

"You are," I said, "And he is yours."

Sam was quite a moment, "So are you."

"And so are you," I said, giving Sam a small smile, "Go back inside."

Sam did as he was told, flashing me a smile as he did, and I turned to look for Dean. The Impala wasn't where it had been the night before. I scanned the parking lot but couldn't find it. I round the motel toward the less crowded part of the parking lot and found the car, the hood propped up. I walked around to the front where Dean was leaning over the engine, fiddling with it. I paused to look at him, mesmerized by the sight.

He was dressed in just jeans and a dark grey t-shirt, his boots scuffing across the black top as he moved. He had grease up to his elbows, even a smudge across his forehead. The pain I felt lessened at the sight of him, replaced by a dull ache that pulsed like the seconds of a clock ticking away. It was an inner count down to the moment he would be dragged to hell. I was torn between sitting there and watching him continue his work or intervene and interact with the gorgeous specimen. In the end I walked over to him.

I leaned over the engine next to Dean, "Hey, grease monkey."

Dean startled slightly, looking up at me. He grabbed a cloth that he had laid across the side of his car and started cleaning off his hands, turning back to the engine, "Hey, bluebird. How are you holdin' up?"

"I'm okay," I said, before dragging my finger across my chest in an X, "Cross my heart."

Dean eyed my knuckles, "What did you do to your hands?"

I lifted up my hand and pulled at the bandage to peek at the damage underneath, "Working out some issues."

"Issues?"

"Shh! I'm pretending they don't exist," I said in a whisper.

"I know this isn't easy," Dean said, turning his attention to the car, "Believe me, I understand."

"I don't want to dwell on it," I said, waiving my hand dismissively.

"No?" Dean asked, narrowing his eyes at me.

"I'll do what I always do," I said, turning away from him and staring out at the wall of the motel, leaning against the Impala and propping my feet up on the cement parking divider.

"And what's that?"

"I take all that hurt and pain and burry it in a box deep within my mind," I said. I looked back into Dean's green eyes and smiled, "Then I'll move on and leave the past in the past, right where it belongs."

"You're not moving on," Dean muttered, tossing his rag over his shoulder.

I shrugged, "I don't think anyone can move on from something like this, but I'm gonna try, because it's what I have to do to survive. Otherwise, I think I'd die."

"I wish I could let it go," Dean shook his head, looking like he hadn't meant to say that aloud, "I used to be able to, but now…"

I pressed my lips together, not missing how withdrawn he was becoming. A whole new feeling was forming in my chest and I quickly struggled to find something, anything, to talk about and bring him back to me. I glanced at the hunk of metal inside the Impala and nodded toward it, "That's a very nice engine."

Dean glanced up at me, amusement in his eyes, "I thought you didn't know anything about cars?"

"I know enough to know what an engine is," I snipped, smiling slightly, "But I can't tell the difference between pistons and valves and… stuff."

Dean scoffed and shook his head, but I noticed the small smile on his lips as he pulled a ratchet out of his back pocket and leaned over the engine tighten something, "Why am I not even surprised?"

"'Cos you ain't stupid?" I suggested. I leaning forward a little more so I could watch what he was doing, "Maybe you could teach me a thing or two?"

Dean's smile grew and he shook his head, "And risk you blowing up my baby?"

"Good point," I smirked at him, "I'd hate to destroy such a pretty thing."

"Damn straight," Dean chuckled softly, using the rag to clean the ratchet when he was done, "You can hand me tools, if you can tell those apart."

I gave that a brief thought. I knew a little more about those, plus it gave me time with him. My smile grew, "Sure, if you point me in the right direction."

Dean chuckled and handed me the ratchet, "I need that wrench right there."

I took the ratchet between two fingers to keep the oil off my skin to a minimum and turned in the direction Dean was pointing. Exchanging one tool for the next, I turned back around to Dean and held it out to him. He took it with thanks and then turned back around to tighten something else. I leaned back over the engine to watch him.

"How's Claire?" Dean asked, leaning far over the engine and reaching the wrench inside.

"Seems good," I said, "Though she feels safe now, I'm worried she might start throwing holy water in people's faces again."

"Sounds healthy," Dean said, straightening and slipping the wrench into his back pocket before wiping his hands on his rag.

"I'm thinking about getting her a water gun," I held up my hands so they were about two feet apart, "A big one."

Dean laughed, "Get two and you ladies could have a wet t-shirt contest."

I scoffed, but I was unable to hide the smile on my lips. I rolled my eyes at him, changing the subject to not give him the satisfaction of talking about what he was already picturing in his mind, "Where did you learn to fix up cars?"

"My dad taught me everything I know," Dean said softly, drifting away again, "He wanted me to be able to take care of this car."

"It must have been nice," I said, bumping my shoulder into Dean's to bring his eyes to me, "Hanging with your dad like that."

"Look out," Dean said, ushering me to the side. I stumbled away as he unhooked the metal hood support bar and slammed the hood back into place, "That should do it."

"What, really?" I asked, looking from Dean to the hood of the Impala, "You tightened like two screws."

"I was also working on her before you came out here," Dean reminded me.

I pouted, pulling out my best whiney voice, "But I was going to help. I'm not even covered in oil yet!"

Dean paused, slowly turning toward me. I realized what he was about to do just as his hand shot out and rubbed his oil stained fingers across my cheek, streaking it with wetness. I gasped and leaned away from him, raising my hand and touched my finger tips to the oil and pulling it away so I could look at it. I turned my gaze from the smudge to Dean and dived for him.

Dean ducked, stepping to the side so that I had to take a step forward to catch myself. He grabbed my outstretched arm and pulled it toward him so that it crossed my chest, spinning me around so my back was to his chest. The arm he wasn't holding was pinned under the arm he had across my chest to lock me in place. With his free hand, he continued his assault on my face.

I imagined my white shirt wasn't going to be looking very clean after this, stained forever by his hands, but I didn't care. All my body was willing to process was that Dean was pressed against me. As much as I wanted to stay in his arms, I wasn't going to lose this fight.

I squealed, "No fair! I don't have any oil on my hands!"

Dean held me tighter, "You're just mad I'm winning!"

I turned my face in an attempt to keep it from his reach, but he had me cornered. I turned my focus to getting free. Taking hold of his arm that kept me pinned with my free hand and pulled down, bending at the knees. Dean leaned forward and I shot the wrist he was holding away from my body, turning under his arm. To keep from twisting my wrist Dean released his hold on me. Moving fast, Dean pushed me backwards and stepped to the side, forcing me to turn.

The back of my legs hit the grill of the Impala, but Dean kept pushing until I bent backwards so my back was against the car. Situating himself between my legs, he leaned forward and took both my wrist in one of his hands to pin them above my head. Lifting his free hand, Dean wiggled his dirty fingers at me.

"Now what are you going to do?" Dean asked, smiling triumphantly down at me.

My heart slammed in my chest. The world was silence by his touch, the pain dissolving into nothing. I slipped into a blissful high in the comfort of Dean as he chased away the darkness. I forgot about everything. There was just me and Dean and the heat from the sun. I was vaguely aware of the scent of oil on his skin, the quick rise and fall of his breathing. We were so close together, but still so far away. I wanted- needed- more of him.

I smiled at him, bringing up my knee so it ran along his side and gently pushing up his shirt so our skin touched, "Suffer."

Dean released my wrist, the amusement leaving his eyes. His face went perfectly blank as he moved away from me. I sat up and grabbed the back of his shirt, "Dean-"

"I'm going to Hell, True," Dean snapped, "There's no stopping it. I let myself hope, that maybe I could be saved, but I can't. You have everything to live for. Is it really worth the pain to fall for a dying man? In a month I'll be in Hell, and you and Sam will be left behind without me. And then where would you be? I don't want your fire to go out because of me."

My fire? My brows pulled together as I tried to figure out something to say. I could lie and tell him not to worry, that we could figure this out. Or comfort him, tell him that despite the evidence that it would be all right. Convince him to just make the most out of what little time he had left. I glance back at Dean, seeing the actual fear in his eyes, and couldn't bring myself to tell him any of those things.

The look twisted a black whole into my chest. A mix of emotions bubbled up inside me; sorrow, despair, hopelessness, and even pity. All that I was sure where easy to read on my face. I was truly, completely, sorry for Dean and there was nothing I could do for him.

"I don't…" my voice died in my throat, my eyes drifting down to the bit of his shirt I still clung to.

"With your demon gone, you'll be safer now," Dean said, "You'll be able to make it on your own."

"Are you voting me off the island?" I asked, looking up at him, "Because if you are, I think Sam gets a vote, too."

"This isn't a joke," Dean told me, "I'm not good for you,"

"You've already said that," I pointed out.

"This- It's only going to hurt you."

"I'm already hurting," I whispered.

"True-"

"We can still save you," I found myself saying, feeling the hope and knowing the improbability of succeeding settle in my chest.

"True-"

"This is the world we live in," I interrupted at Dean's warning tone, "This is the hunter's life, we lose people all the time. We can't out run this. All we can do is stand and fight. Together, just like Sam said the other night. Might as well enjoy what we have while we have it."

Dean tucked a stray hair behind my ear, sighed, and said, "Did you eat?"

I dropped my head back and rolled my eyes at the sky, annoyed at him not willing to talk about this, "Yes, I ate."

"We should get back inside," Dean said, taking the hand still holding his shirt and pulling it free, lifting it to help me slid off the Impala. He released me and picked up the tool bag, carrying it toward the trunk as he tossed the wrench inside, "We've been here long enough."

"Nothing is resolved though, what are we doing?" I asked, trailing after him. I hated the fact that we just went around in circles. Why couldn't something in our life just be easy for once?

"I don't know," Dean admitted, not looking at me.

"What do we do about Claire?"

"That's up to you," Dean said, popping the trunk, "It's too dangerous for her to come with us, but with Werzelya dead, it should be safe for her to go home."

I pursed my lips, "Unless something else comes looking for me."

"Well, what do you want to do?" Dean asked, shutting the trunk with a little too much force.

"Ask Claire, I guess," I said with a shrug.

Dean shrugged back at me, indicting for me to head back to our rooms. I turned on my heels and walked back to Sam and Dean's room with Dean at my side. I didn't bother knocking as I threw open the door, strolling in to find Sam cleaning up the trash from the table. He paused to look at us, eyeing first his brother and then me before his eyes traveled up and down me.

"Where's Claire?" I asked.

"Said she was gonna take a shower," Sam said, giving me a questioning look.

I strolled across the room toward the adjoining doors, trying not to let the war that raged inside me seep into my face. I opened the door and slipped inside, shutting it behind me. The door to the bathroom was shut and I could see the shadows of Claire moving around under the door. I dropped down on the bed, stretching out.

"True?" Claire called from the bathroom.

"Yeah, it's me," I called back, "You almost ready?"

"Yep," Claire said, opening the door. She peeked out to make sure that the door to the boy's room was closed before emerging from the bathroom in a bra, tang top, and underwear, "I've been thinking."

"Uh-oh," I teased.

"Shut up," Claire said, walking over to my duffle and pulling out a pair of jeans. She paused to look at me, "Why are you covered in grease?"

"I was attacked by a raged grease monkey," I informed her, "What where you thinking?"

Claire flashed me a smile, "I was thinking, I want to go to my Dad's. He called earlier but he was fussing over me and saying shit-" aka how this was all my fault- "so I told him I'd come home. I don't know when you're running off again, but I can have him make up the guest room for you."

"Your dad and I under the same roof?" I asked, propping myself on my elbows, "That's World War III just waiting to happen."

"I know," Claire said, pulling on the jeans before digging out one of my black shirts. She slipped it over her head, pulling the sleeves down just past her elbows. She gave me a hopeful smile, "You could stay anyway. Cause some trouble."

I returned her smile, "And risk the wrath of your dad? Thanks, but I'm gonna have to decline."

"It's really over, isn't it?" Claire asked abruptly. Her face growing serious, her eyes earnest as they begged me to tell her it was true, "I mean it's safe to go home, right?"

"Yeah," I said. The Van Helsing bloodline would live on, at least for now. Echo and I were safe. I shot up on the bed, "Shit!"

Claire jumped, looking horrified, "What?"

"I didn't tell Echo," I hissed, irritated with myself. I grabbed the phone that sat on the nightstand table. Balancing it on my lap, I dialed my sister's number. The phone only rang once before it was answered.

" _Yes_?" Echo demanded.

"It's me," I said before launching into a recap of the previous night.

" _Are you serious_?" Echo asked after I had finished, " _She's really dead_?"

"Ding dong," I said, "The bitch is dead."

" _Where's the knife_?" Echo asked. That was just like my big sister to care more about the demon killing artifact that the Circle didn't have rather than the fact I was alive.

"I'm fine," I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm, "So, you know, there's no need to ask."

" _Do you have the knife_ , _True_?" Echo's words were an order.

"No," I said automatically. I guess I hadn't completely broken the habit of following orders after all. Echo's sigh of disappointment was like a slap in the face. I gritted my teeth, "I gotta go, kitten. I just thought you would want to know."

I hung up before Echo could respond. I dropped the phone back on the nightstand with more force than I had meant and stood. Anger pulsed through me again, just as I was starting to manage it. I ran my hands over my face and I dropped back into the bed, taking several deep breaths.

I envied Sam and Dean's relationship. Echo was all the family I had left in the world and I couldn't stand to be on the same continent as her. The only thing we had in common was our love for the hunt, and we couldn't even do that together. I wanted to hunt some evil right now, take my frustration out on them. I dug my fingernails into the comforter.

"So," Claire said, regaining my attention, "I guess that went well."

"Sure did," I agreed.

"Well, I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders," Claire beamed.

"Oh yeah?" I asked, smiling at her enthusiasm.

"Yes," Claire said, lying down on the bed beside me, "I've been worried sick about you these past few months, with that demon hunting you and all. Now she's dead and I can sleep a little easier."

I bit back the response of mentioning my occupation and let Claire have her happiness for a while longer. Reality would catch up with her and she would be right back to worrying like normal. Instead I basked in her giddiness.

Claire rolled onto her back, "It was nice to get to know the Winchesters a little more. Considering you spend ninety percent of your time with them. I have plenty of embarrassing stories to tell them."

I narrowed my eyes at her, "I don't have embarrassing stories, Claire, just epic legends."

Claire rolled her eyes at me and tried to hide her smile, "Are you and Dean, like a thing now? You two would be so cute together."

"Well, I don't know," I said, "Are you and Sam?"

"No," Claire sighed, "I like him, but I don't think I could handle it."

"You'd be surprised by what you could handle," I said, thinking back to Dean, "It'll be complicated."

"Is it complicated with Dean?" Claire asked, "Because you're both hunters?"

I nearly choked on the breath I was taking, realizing I hadn't told her about Dean selling his soul. I cleared my throat, "Um, not so much that he's a hunter, more that Dean sold his soul to a demon and in about a month he's going to Hell."

Claire's mouth dropped open and her blue eyes grew two sizes, "Wha- how does- ahem- how does one sell their soul? Why would someone do that?"

"Money, fame, power," I started listing them off, hesitating before saying, "Family or love."

Claire's gaze drifted to the door. She didn't look at me when she asked, "Demon's can bring back the dead?"

"It's not that simple," I said gently, already knowing where she was going with this. "You don't understand what you're losing by making a deal with demons."

"Like what?" Claire asked, turning to face me, "Wouldn't you do it to have your mom again?"

"No," I said, a little too harshly, "You lose your soul, Claire. The demon takes it to Hell and they torture and burn the humanity out of you. They make you just like them, another demon."

Claire was silent, lost in her own thoughts. I didn't say anything; instead I turned my attention back to the ceiling. We waited in silence a long while before getting up and joining the boys in their room. We gathered our belongs and came up with a game plan of getting Claire back to Salt Lake before we heading off again.

It was a long drive, with Dean ignoring me again. I did the same thing, focusing more on the conversations that Claire and Sam where having. I joined in, feeling more like myself with every passing moment. The weight still pressed against me, but it was manageable. I repeated to myself that I could move past this.

In Salt Lake I said my goodbyes to Claire, giving her some demon books to read as homework and ordering her to take some self defense classes. The boys and I drove off toward the horizon, looking for another job. With Werzelya dead I had new priorities to focus on. The Shadow was one of them, but saving Dean was another. Whispers in my mind told me that maybe I didn't have to lose him, maybe I could save him. It was enough to build hope on.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

Alanis Morissette's _Underneath_ blared from the Impala stereo as I hung my bare feet out the passenger side window. I flipped threw a local newspaper that I plucked off a park bench while I waited for Sam and Dean, looking for any horrifyingly tragic deaths or unexplained disappearances for a case. I tapped my foot absentmindedly to the beat, finding nothing in the news and flipping to the comics. We've been having a whole lot of nothing the past several days.

After leaving Salt Lake, they boys and I had turned our attention to hunting down every witch doctor, soothsayer, and- as Dean would say- two-bit carny act across the country to find a way to break Dean's deal. Recently Sam had discovered a college professor with a doctorate in Mythology and Sam was questioning him now, but so far nobody knew anything about breaking a demon deal. Since Bella was still AWOL and god only knows where the Colt was we were left with a lot of disappointment and arguments between the Winchesters that went in circles.

I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to think about anything. I wanted to turn my focus to something tangible, a throat I could wrap my hands around. If I had my way, I'd be hunting the Shadow that seemed to be stalking me, but I had no leads. Just as much nothing as everything else and I still couldn't tell the boys about it. So without separating from them there was little I could do.

I felt my emotional box began to rattle again and I ground my teeth to keep control of it. It was a relief when the driver side door to the Impala swung open and Dean peered down at me, a smile playing on the edge of his lips. He had stopped ignoring me a while back and had started treating me more normal again, but still kept a good distance from me and making sure we were never alone together. Of course Sam kept trying to find situations to leave his brother and me alone; I just sat there to see who won.

"Move or I'll sit on your face," Dean ordered, moving to take his seat in front of the steering wheel.

I shot up, swinging my feet inside the window as I turned my body forward, resting my heels on the dash. I started folding up the news paper, catching Sam pouting in the back seat out of the corner of my eye.

"What's your problem?" I asked, flipping around to look at him.

"Dean found another case," Sam said.

"Another?" I asked, turning from Sam to Dean, "Like, more than one?"

"Sammy thinks we're already on a case," Dean said, shooting me a pointed look.

"Oh," I said softly, realizing the case was Dean, "Well, what did the professor say?"

I turned around to face Sam. He was looking out the window, slouched low in his seat. Feeling my eyes on him, he turned his gaze to mine. The look he wore on his face could make a stone cry, and I had to resist crawling into the back seat to hug him.

"The professor didn't know crap," Sam pouted, looking annoyed.

"Then do we have any other leads, anyone else to talk to?" I asked gently, tossing the newspaper beside him. Sam shook his head, "Then we might as well fill our time with a hunt."

"Atta girl!" Dean cheered.

I rolled my eyes at him, "What's the job?"

"Bobby called, told us about this banker down in Ohio who blew his head off," Dean said, "He thinks there's a spirit involved."

"A spirit?" I asked, "Better call the Ghostfacers."

"He was complaining-" Dean went on, rolling his eyes at me, "-about some electrical problems at his pad for like a week. Phones were going haywire, with his computers flipping on and off."

"Yep, sounds like a ghost," I confirmed.

"Then lets getting going," Dean said, pressing his foot on the gas.

The drive to Milan, Ohio was not a fun one. With Sam sulking in the back seat, and Dean acting like nothing in the world could touch him, I sat silently in the front seat. Arriving in town, we stopped to get a motel room and dress in our FBI suits before stopping by the house of the banker's widow. It was an impressive house, beautiful. Something someone with a lot of money would buy. We walked to the door and Dean banged his fist on the wood.

A woman with short blond hair, dressed in expensive clothing, opened the door. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. She looked at each of us in turn before saying, "Can I help you?"

"Mrs. Waters?" Sam asked. He waited for her to nod before showing his fake badge, "I'm Agent Campbell, this is my partner Agent Raimi, and out associate Miss Stoker."

I smiled respectfully, glancing behind the woman to taken in the exterior of her home. The inside was carefully decorated to perfection; money was clearly not a problem. Turning back to woman, I gave her a sincere look.

"What do you want?" Mrs. Waters asked, "I've already talk to the police."

"We'd like to ask you a few more questions about the death of your husband," Dean said, "May we come in?"

Mrs. Walters looked at Sam's badge, then to Sam, followed by Dean and then finally coming to rest on me. She sighed, stepping back and motioning us to step over the threshold. When we were all gathered in a circle in the main hallway, Mrs. Waters crossed her arms over her chest, "What do you want to know?"

"Your husband, he shot himself?" Dean asked. Mrs. Waters nodded, looking annoyed, "Where?"

Mrs. Waters turned on her heels, leading us through her home. Even though I didn't know the Waters and had never been in their home, I could feel his absence. There was a feeling of hollowness about the place, it echoed off the walls. Made even more tangible by the distraught Widow Waters was in over the death of her husband.

"I found him there," Mrs. Waters said, leading us into the study and pointing toward the desk.

"Why don't you just tell us everything you saw, Mrs. Waters?" Dean asked. I let the boys do their job, while I looked for cold spots, or any other signs of a ghost.

"You mean besides my dead husband?" Mrs. Waters snapped.

"Just everything else you saw, please," Sam asked.

Mrs. Waters sighed, "There was blood everywhere. The phone was ripped from the wall, his favorite Scotch on the desk. What else could you wanna know?"

"Why was the phone ripped from the wall?" Sam asked.

"I don't know," Mrs. Waters admitted, crossing her arms over her chest. I didn't think it was possible, but she looked even more exhausted.

"You mind if I take a look?" Sam asked.

Mrs. Waters waived her hand, gesturing him to be her guest. Sam walked over to the desk and I followed. I shuffled through the papers. They all seemed to be revolving around his career; nothing out of the ordinary jumped out and grabbed me.

"Like I told you, I already went over all this with the other detectives," Mrs. Waters said. I glanced up as Dean moved to step around her.

"We'll be out of your hair in no time, ma'am," Dean said, barely sparing her a glance as he continued around her. I glared at him, but he didn't look at me. He might not care if he was being a dick, but that woman just lost her husband.

Sam picked up the phone, clicking at the caller ID. I noticed the smears of blood on the phones, around the edges of the screen. He tilted it to show me the little blue screen and the block writing that read SHA33. Dean and Sam shared a look and Sam tapped at the phone.

"Do you know what time you're husband die, Mrs. Waters?" I asked.

"Sometime after eleven," Mrs. Waters responded.

"What about strange phone calls?" Dean asked, "Receive any of those lately? Weird interferences, static, anything like that?"

"No," Mrs. Waters said, not at all convincingly. She tired, and failed, again, "No."

"Mrs. Waters, withholding information from the police is a capital offense," Dean lied. Sam cleared his throat, setting the phone back on the desk and giving Dean an irritated look. Dean rolled his eyes turning back to the widow, "In some parts of the world, I'm sure."

Mrs. Walters sighed, defeated, "A couple of weeks ago, uh, there was this-"

"This what?" Dean pressed.

"I woke up one morning," Mrs. Waters went on, "I heard Ben in his study. I thought he was talking to a woman."

"What made you think that?" Sam inquired.

"Because he kept calling her Linda," Mrs. Waters said, "The thing is, I picked up the other line and nobody was there. Ben was talking to nobody."

"There was nothing?" Sam asked.

"Just static," Mrs. Walters said, shaking her head.

"Did you ask Ben about it?" I asked.

"No," Mrs. Walters shook her head, growing more upset, "I should've, but no."

"Did he ever say who Linda was?" Sam asked.

"What difference does it make?" Mrs. Waters demanded, her eyes shining with tears, "There was no one on the other end!"

"Sometimes the smallest details can be the biggest clues," I told her with a reassuring smile.

"What clues?" Widow Waters demanded, "My husband shot himself!"

Yeah, but why? There was no suicide note, no mention of depression to his wife. He was drinking, ripped the phone from the wall. I couldn't tell any of this to the widow, but something had driven him so far from sanity that he had taken his own life. Linda could be that reason.

Sam cleared his throat, sparing me from the stare Mrs. Waters had fixed me with. He gave her a soft smile, "Thank you for the information, Mrs. Waters, we'll get out of your way."

Mrs. Waters led us back to the front door, mumbling a goodbye before slamming the door after us. We walked back to the Impala in silence, Sam and Dean taking seats in the front with me in the back. I waited until Dean had pulled out of the driveway and was cruising along the street before I spoke up about the case.

"So, what's with the caller ID?"

"I don't know," Sam admitted, turning around in his seat to face me, "But it's all we have to go on."

"And finding out who Lynda is," Dean added.

"And why she'd be calling Ben," I joined in.

"Time for some research then," Dean said, sighing.

I crinkled my nose in disgust. Research was my least favorite thing to do, especially when hours and hours of it turned up with nothing. Maybe I could convince them to allow me to do a food run while they did the studious thing.

We drove back to the motel, filling the time with small talk. Only some of it pertained to the case, but as Sam said, we didn't have a lot to go on. Dean parked the Impala in front of our room and we got out of the car. I lagged behind as Sam and Dean headed for the door, Dean was the first to realize I wasn't with them.

"What?" Dean asked, turning to squinting his eyes at me through the light of the sun.

I shrugged, "I was thinking that I could go find some food, you know for sustenance."

Dean gave me a _hell no_ look and Sam chuckled and said, "Sure."

Sam headed for the room, but Dean dallied behind. I smiled at him, "I'll find you some pie."

Dean sighed and tossed me the keys for the Impala. I caught them by surprise, looking from them to Dean and back again. Dean halfway turned to the door, "The only store I saw around here is a mile away. There's no way in hell you're walking."

With that he turned and followed after Sam. For a moment I was too shocked to move, staring after him. The keys felt heavy in my hand, warm against my skin. A slow smile spread across my face and I ran around the car, pulling open the driver's side door. I sat down behind the wheel slowly, as if the Impala itself would buck me out if I startled it. I ran my hands over the leather of the steering wheel before sliding the key into the ignition, the car rumbled to life as I turned it.

Purring softly, the Impala happily drifted backward as I reversed out of the parking lot. I cruised a little too fast as I headed down the street toward the local grocery store, being mindful of the passing cars. I wasn't quite ready to be murdered by Dean if I let someone damage his baby. Parking the car close to the door so that if anyone tried to steal it they would be caught on camera, then I could hunt them down and kick their asses.

I took my time wondering through the store, getting food here and there for all of us. Gathering up healthy things for Sam, junk food for Dean, and a few Lunchables for myself, I swung by the pie aisle and grabbed a pecan pie for Dean. I got Sam water, Dean a coke, and an iced coffee for myself before heading to the register.

A burly man with a thick beard smiled politely at me as he rang up my food, "You have kids at home?"

I smiled at him, "Yeah, to boys."

"Oh," The man said shaking his head with a smile, "I bet they're a hand full."

"You have no idea," I said.

I paid for the groceries before smiling at him. I gathered the bags up and headed back to the Impala, finding it right where I had left it. I put the food in the back seat before walking around the car to make sure there wasn't a scratch on it. Satisfied, I climbed back in and headed for the motel.

The drive back to the hotel seemed faster than heading away from it, and I realized it was because I was going ten miles above the speed limit when I pressed on the breaks to slow down before turning back into the parking lot. I pulled to a stop where Dean had parked before and twisted around, gathering all my grocery bags in one hand before I opened the door. Locking the car, I double checked to make sure I had the keys before I stepped out, shutting the door behind me as I headed for our room.

I was halfway there when I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. I froze, spinning around so fast the bags whipped around and slammed into my legs. I looked around, feeling eyes on me. The only person around was a lady with hair black as a raven and olive skin, sitting at a bus bench down the street from the motel. She had one leg crossed over the other, her focus on the phone she held in her hand. Grinding my teeth together, I walked toward her.

"Hi," I said when I was standing beside the bench.

The woman jumped, startled by my sudden appearance and turned to look at me, "What?"

She had to be about thirty, with round onyx eyes and thin lips. She wasn't bad looking, her voice held the hint of an accent I couldn't quite place. She had on a pair of black jeans, black converse, and a black tank top decorated with a silver necklace. She blinked up at me, confusion on her face.

"Hi," I repeated.

"Um, hi?" The woman said again, sliding away from me slightly. She looked around suspiciously, like there was someone waiting to jump out and mug her, "Can I help you?"

The woman seemed normal, there were no extra warning bells going off, but I could still feel eyes on me. I smiled at her, trying to disarm her with my sweetest look. "I'm sorry to disturb you, I thought I knew you."

"Oh," the woman said, chuckling nervously, "Um, I don't think so."

The rumble of an engine alerted us to the bus. It turned the corner a block over and came rolling to a stop in front of us. The woman jumped to her feet, hurrying over as the drive opened the doors. She ducked inside before the doors were fully open, taking a seat on the other side of the bus where I could no longer see her. The bus driver, an older black woman with a friendly smile, leaned forward to address me.

"You coming, baby doll?" She asked.

I shook my head, "Nah, this isn't my bus."

"Alright, take care now, honey," The bus driver called, straightening as she pulled the bus doors shut.

I stood where I was, watching the bus pull away. I still felt the eyes on me, but there was no one else around me. Whatever was watching me had the good sense to be invisible. Turning on my heels, I walked back across the parking lot. I threw open the motel door with more force than I had meant, startling both Sam and Dean. Dean leaned back in his chair to glare at me, while Sam jumped to his feet to help me with the bags.

"Took you long enough," Dean said.

I kicked the door close, putting some distance between me and the eyes watching me. I held up the bag holding Sam's food, relaxing as the feeling faded, "Sorry, I swung by a chop shop to sell off each piece of the Impala."

"That's not funny," Dean said, narrowing his eyes at me.

"Yeah," I said, forcing a sigh as I tossed the car keys on the table. I reached into the bag and pulled out his pie, holding it up for him to see, "But I made enough money to get you this."

Dean's eyes widened as his gaze shifted from me to the pie. He held out his hand, "Gimme!"

"No," I said, sliding it back into the bag and pulling out the other food I had gotten him, "You have to eat real food first."

I handed him a club sandwich and a bag of barbeque chips along with his soda, despite his pouting face. He took them reluctantly, but tore them opened and started stuffing his face. I turned to join Sam on one of the beds as he laid down, propping himself up on his elbow. He placed the bag on the floor pulling out the pizza Lunchable I had gotten. He held it up, glancing at me with one eyebrow raised.

"What? They're good," I said. Shrugging, I leaned forward to peer down at the bag, "There should be a nacho one in there somewhere."

Sam laughed, pulling out the other Lunchable and handing it to me, "Remind me to get you some _real food_ later."

"This is real food," I said, gasping at him and placing my hand against my chest as if he had insulted me, "How dare you think otherwise!"

Sam smiled, pulling out the salad I had gotten him. He held it up, wiggling it in front of my face, "Why do you always get me salads?"

"'Cos you're getting fat," I said, opening my pizza Lunchable and using the top wrapper as a make shift plate. I begun building my pizza, smiling sweetly at Sam.

Sam smiled, opening his salad, "You're so rude."

"Aw, I'm sorry, Sammy," I said, patting his head, "Did I hurt your feelings?"

Sam swatted my hand away, but there was amusement in his eyes. Too polite to insult me back, Sam turned his attention to his food. We ate in silence for a few moments, enjoying our meals. I finished my pizza and moved on to my nacho, dunking the chips in both the cheese and salsa before popping them in my mouth.

"Linda's a babe. Or was," Dean said before glancing up at me, "I mean, attractive. She was a very attractive young woman."

"Uh-huh," I said, licking some cheese off my fingers, "Judging by the 'was' I'm guessing she's dead?"

"Yeah, Linda Bateman," Dean said, leaning forward to read off the computer, "She and, uh, Ben Waters were high-school sweethearts."

"So what happened?" Sam asked, sitting up.

"Drunk driver hit them head on," Dean said, leaning back in his chair, "Ben walked away."

"So, what then? Sam asked, "Dead flame calls to chat?"

"How romantic," I said, earning curious looks from both the boys, "It's very Romeo and Juliet. Kills himself to be with the one he loves."

"Right," Dean said, not seeing the romantic side, "Linda was cremated. So why is she still floating around?"

"She's bound to this earth, doomed to walk the Veil till she is reunited with her lost love," I said, pretending to swoon.

"What about the caller ID?" Dean asked, standing to walk toward us.

"Turns out it's a phone number," Sam said.

"It's a really weird looking phone number," I muttered, finishing off my nachos.

"Yeah, because it's about a century old," Sam said, turning to face me, "From back when phones had cranks."

"So why use that number to reach out?" Dean asked, pulling Sam's attention back to him.

"Got me there too, but either way, we should run a trace on it," Sam said.

"How are we gonna trace a number over a hundred years old?" Dean demanded, looking back and forth between his brother and me. That was an excellent question, and according to Sam, there was only one place to start.


	28. Chapter 28

**Emily2696: Thank you for your reviews, they always make me smile!**

 **SilverD15: Yes, I do plan on having Crowley come in and all the other amazing (and less awesome) characters. I wanna stick as close to the real storyline as I can with alternate one. And thank you for your reviews, they are much appreciated!**

 **Chapter Twenty-Eight**

We strolled into the phone company building like we owned the place, walking up to the young woman sitting at the front desk. She smiled politely at us, her eyes lingering on Sam and then Dean (a little too long.) I leaned against the counter, reaching out and snapping my fingers in front of her face to get her attention. Slowly she turned golden brown to me.

"Hello, pet," I said, smiling sweetly at her, "We need to speak with the man in charge."

"Oh, I'm sorry," the woman said, developing a sarcastic polite tone and flashing me a skeptical look, "Who are you?"

Dean leaned against the counter, gently nudging me aside, and smiled brightly at the girl. She soaked it in, batting her eyes and flaunting his attention at me. I gritted my teeth, resisting the desire to smile. It stung, but anything between them wouldn't progress farther than a one night stand. Mine or not, I was the one who was leaving with Dean in the morning. Still, I had to step back and cross my arms over my chest to keep from smacking him on the back of the head.

"We are from headquarters, and we are looking to test some of your systems," Dean said.

"Alright," the woman said, tilting her head to the side, "You'll want to talk to Clark, then. I'll get him for you."

The woman picked up the phone on her desk and pressed a button, we waited a few moments before she said, "Hi, Clark. I have some people from HQ who need to speak with you… Yes, sir." The woman hung up the phone before smiling broadly at Dean, "Clark will be right with you."

She wasn't kidding. No sooner had she said those words did a tall, bald man in a dark suit walk out from around a corner. He smiled politely at us, walking over with his hand out stretched. Dean stepped for, clasping Clarks hand with his own.

"Hello," Clark said, releasing Dean's hand to take Sam's, "I'm Clark Adams."

"I'm True Stokes," I said, smiling when Clark held his hand out to me, glancing at the badge clipped to his breast pocket stating that he was the director of this building, "These are my associates, Samuel Campbell and Dean Raimi."

"Please to meet you," Clark said before tucking his hands into his pants pockets, "How can I help you?"

"We need a number traced," Sam said.

"Ah," Clark said, motioning with a finger for us to follow him, "You'll want to speak with Stewie. He's down in the basement."

We tagged along behind Clark as he walked us deeper into the building, around a few corners before we came to the opening of a staircase. With Clark leading the way we descended the stairs, making our way to the ground floor. I took a position next to Clark, with Sam and Dean walking behind us.

"We don't get too many folks from HQ down here," Clark said, glancing at me as he led us down the last few steps into the deep dark basement underneath the building.

"Yes, well, the main office mentioned that there would be a lunch," Dean said. I turned around to roll my eyes at him, catching Sam doing the same.

"I'm sure we could arrange something," Clark stumbled out. We reached the basement and Clark led us down a long hallway.

"Really, that's not necessary," I told Clark.

"Oh," Clark chuckling awkwardly, "The man you gentlemen, and lady, wanna be speaking to is right this-"

A fly whizzed past me, its wings buzzing as it got caught in Sam's hair. Out of reflex, Sam swatted at it with enough momentum to knock it away. I leaned away from the fly as it flew past me, nearly running into Clark. He placed a hand on my shoulder to keep my steady.

"I know," Clark said as I shrugged out from under his touch, "Sorry. Uh, got something of a hygiene issue down here, if you ask me."

"Stewie," Clark called as he made another flick of his finger for us to follow and we headed another few feet before reaching the end of the hall. Clark ducked into a room to the left and we headed in after him. A shorter man sitting at a desk jumped as we entered, turning to face us, "What did I tell you about keeping this place clean?"

The place really was a mess. Fast food wrapper were scatted about, judging by the stank they were several days old. With the nerdy action figures on his desk and the amount of porn on his computer, I'd say he didn't get out much. Stewie was dressed in a dingy striped shirt under a faded blue vest hoodie and cargo pants.

He flipped back around quickly to face his computer muttering, "Spam mail. Spam mail."

"Stewie Meyers," Clark introduced, "Mr. Campbell, Mr. Raimi, and Miss Stoker."

"I don't know how all this got here," Stewie said, furiously kicking at the porn sites popping up on his computer.

Clark stepped forward and flipped Stewie on the back of the head, getting his attention to turn around and face us. Clark smiled apologetically at us, "From headquarters."

"Oh," Stewie said, turning around in his chair, looking quite horrified. He crossed his legs, folding his hands in front of him.

"Give these good people whatever they need," Clark ordered.

"Yeah," Stewie agreed reluctantly. We Clark our nods of thanks as he left the room.

"So can I help you?" Stewie asked.

Dean glanced behind him to make sure Clark was gone before nodding at the computer, "Is that, uh, ?"

"No," Stewie said quickly as a woman on the computer said, " _Ooh, me so horny_."

Stewie flipped around to click off the pop up before turning back to face us. I smiled, "Does it get a bit lonely down here, Stewie boy?"

"Word to the wise," Dean said, "Platinum membership. Worth every penny. Huh?"

"And that's why I only use Sam's computer," I said, taking an exaggerated step away from Dean.

"Right, anyway," Sam said, reaching into his breast pocket and pulling out the slip of paper he had written the ID number on and holding it out to Stewie, "Um, we're here to trace a number."

"Where did you get this?" Stewie asked, taking the paper from Sam to take a closer look.

"Off caller ID," Sam told him.

"Oh, no," Stewie said, glancing at Sam, "That's impossible."

"Oh, yeah, it's really not," I said.

"We know it hasn't been used in a few years," Dean said.

"A few years?" Stewie said, glancing back at the ID, "It's prehistoric."

"Kind of like that half eaten cheeseburger over there," I muttered, pointing at a pile of mold by the trash bin.

"Trust me," Stewie said, "Nobody's using this number anymore."

"Sure," Sam said, "Could you run it anyway?"

"Sure," Stewie said sarcastically, "Why don't I just rearrange my whole life first?"

"Alright," I said, stepping forward and taking the back of his chair to turn him around to face the computers. I leaned one hand on a clean area of the desk and looked at him, "Here's the thing, sugar, this place is a cesspool of employee-code violations and the amount of pornography on your computer could put Hugh Hefner to shame. So run the damn thing, because if you don't, I'll have you dragged in front of the comity board and you can explain to them what exactly they are paying you to do. Got it?"

"I'd listen to her, Stewie," Dean said, "It wouldn't be the first time she's done it. "

"Okay, whatever," Stewie said, pulling up a search box and typing in ARCHIVE before adding in the ID number, "Jeez."

"Thank you," I said, turning around to see Dean beaming smugly at me. I walked back to stand beside him, whipping my hand on my skirt.

"Holy crap," Stewie said as a bunch of phone numbers, dates, addresses and times appeared on his computer.

"What?" Sam asked.

"I can't tell you where the number comes from," Stewie said, "But I can tell you where it's been going."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked as Stewie stood up from his chair as the sound of a printer getting to work filled the air, walking past us to the printer against the wall by the door.

Stewie pulled the freshly printed paper off the machine, "Ten different houses in the past two weeks all got calls from the same number."

Sam took the paper from Stewie, looking down at it. With a job well done, Stewie returned to his seat, "So are we done here? Because I was sort of busy."

"Right," Dean said, winking and pointing at Stewie with a knowing look. I crinkled my nose as I followed the Winchesters from the room.

We were silent until we were back into the safety of the Impala, Sam and Dean in their usual spots up front with me leaning over the back seat to get a better look at the paper in Sam's hand. There were about ten names in all; the one sticking out the most was the one that belonged to the banker.

"We should probably split up," Sam said, "We'll be able to cover more ground that way."

"Awesome, nine names so we each get three," I said, pulling out my phone to snap a picture of the list.

Dean scoffed turning around to face me, "You're not going anywhere alone, we have no idea what we are up against."

I turned my phone on him and snapped a picture of his face before he could whack my phone away, "When are you going to learn that I don't need protection?"

"True can come with me," Sam said, before Dean and I could launch into an argument about me being capable enough to be on my own. I stared at Sam wide eyed, taken aback by the fact he hadn't insisted on me riding with Dean. I was too shocked to argue, and to curious. I wanted to ask him why.

"Alright," Dean said, sounding a mix of smugness for winning the argument and shock, "Let's get you two kids a rental car."

I dropped back in my seat in the Impala counting the minutes until Sam and I where alone. Over the past several months he had thrown me at Dean every chance he got, leaving the room to get us alone time, even offering to be the one to run into a restaurant to get the food while Dean and I stayed in the car. It was possible that he just wasn't in the mood for an argument or he had something important to tell me that he couldn't tell Dean, but I couldn't help but feel like he was losing hope.

Dean drove to the nearest rent-a-car company, and using one of Sam's fake credit cards, the younger Winchester and I separated from Dean and took the bottom half of the list. Sam and I only had three houses we had to investigate. I waited a few moments of driving in silence to give myself time to gather my thoughts before I turned to stare at Sam. He caught me looking out of the corner of his eyes and turned his head to look at me briefly before putting his eyes back to the road.

When I didn't stop, Sam asked, "What?"

"Why am I with you?"

"What?" Sam repeated, scoffing in confusion.

"Why did you want me with you, instead of Dean?"

Sam shrugged, "Maybe I just wanted the company?"

I gave him a pointed look, "Sam, we practically live together. We see each other twenty-four seven. If anything you need time away from me, not one on one."

Sam sighed, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, "I just don't see the point. It wasn't far for me to force you into that situation I did. Dean may not want to die, but I don't think there's a way to save him."

"Not that we've found _yet_ ," I said, trying to hide the fact that I was leaning toward the same thing, "Don't give up hope, Sam. Please."

Sam gave me a sad smile that was more for my benefit, but there was no promise made. We turned our attention to the case, needing something to drown out the thoughts of the minutes ticking by. The first two houses on the list held some promise, though none of the owners seemed like they wanted to admit what was going on. We stopped at the third house and Sam pulled out the list we had been given by Stewie out to double check the address.

"This is it," Sam said, stepping out of the car. I did the same, shutting the door as Sam locked it.

I straightened my outfit as we walked toward the modest yellow house, hidden by a tall shrub fence. I had to walk behind Sam to dodge a little boys bike that was lying in the middle of the walk way. We knocked on the door, only having to wait a few moments before a balding man in a sweater and glasses opened the door. Tucked under his arm was a little boy playing with a soccer ball. I smiled down at the kid, wiggling my fingers at him and earning a smile back.

"Hello, sir," Sam said to the man, catching my attention so that I turned to face the father, "We are from the phone company."

"Uh, we didn't call the phone company," The man said, looking at his son and snagging the ball from him.

"We are actually calling you," I informed him, folding my hands behind my back.

"See," Sam continued, "We've had a lot of complaints from the neighborhood."

"Complaints?" The man asked.

"Yes, sir," Sam confirmed.

"There have been a lot of reports on dropped calls, answering the phone and only hearing static on the other line," I said, as a teenage girl walked around the corner to stare wide eyed at us. She looked rather horrified, "Maybe even strange voices on the other end of the line."

"No, we haven't had any of that here," The man said.

"Nothing?" Sam asked.

"No," The man said, shaking his head.

"Okay, great," Sam said, "Just thought we'd check."

"Thank you for your time," I said, smiling at him.

"No problem," the man said, "Okay, let's go. Come on, Simon."

We turned heading back down the walkway. I said, "That girl looked like she knew something."

"Yeah," Sam said, pulling the keys out of his pocket.

I snatched them and skipped in front of him, smirking as I rounded the car to the driver's side. Unlocking it I said, "Think we should keep an eye on the house?"

"Nah," Sam said, smiling at me as we opened the car doors, "The best thing we can do is stopping this thing."

"No way have you worked for the phone company," a girl said, halting Sam and I in our tracks as we turned to face the teen. She had her arms crossed over her chest, a determined look on her face to hide the fear in her eyes.

"Sure we do," Sam said, turning his back to me so he could give the girl his full attention. Her eyes drifted to me, but her main focus was on Sam. The connection between them was clear, and I remained silent to allow Sam to do his thing.

"Since when do people from the phone company drive a rental, or wear cheap suits?" She asked.

I bit back my response that my outfit was not cheap; it had cost the same price as three of Sam's. Sam scoffed, "Yeah? Well, maybe we're all keeping secrets."

"Why'd you ask my dad if we heard strange voices?" the girl asked, again her eyes drifted to me before returning to Sam.

"Why did you hear something?" Sam asked.

"No," the girls said to fast.

"My mistake," Sam said, "Thought maybe you did."

"Well, I didn't, okay?" The girl snapped.

"Okay," Sam said, "Sorry to bother you."

The look of determination melted and the fear in eyes was even more evident, but there was something more. There was sorrow in the way she held her head, her arms wrapping around herself as if they could form a cocoon for protection. Sam glanced at me and I nodded, slowly he turned back around.

"You know," Sam said softly, "If you did, then I would have told you that I've been right where you're standing right now. Hearing things, even seeing things that couldn't be explained. Maybe we would have been able to help out a little bit. Anyways…"

"Hey, wait," the girl said, stopping Sam as he made a move to get inside the car, "Maybe- Maybe I've been talking on the phone, with- With my mom."

"Your mom?" I asked before I could stop myself, "Why's that strange?"

"She's dead," the girl said softly, "Like, three years now dead."

"How often does she call you?" Sam asked.

"A few times," the girl said, "It started a week ago. I thought I was, like, crazy or something."

"Well, I can tell you one thing for sure," Sam said, "And you're gonna have to go with me on this, okay? You're not crazy."

The girl chuckled, relieved. She stared down at her feet, not knowing what else to say. Not that anything was really needed. Sam stepped forward, pulling one of his business cards out of his pockets and holding it out to her. The girl reached out and took it, flipping it over in her hands.

"This has my cell number on it," Sam informed her, "Call it if you ever need anything, day or night. I'm Sam by the way, and that's my friend True."

"Okay," the girl said, "I'm Lanie."

"Nice to meet you," Sam said, "We got to get going, but I'm serious, call us whenever."

Lanie smiled, before turning and walking back toward her house. Sam turned around, his eyes falling on me and I smiled at him, "You sure have a way with kiddies."

"Shut up," Sam said, rolling his eyes as he got into the car.

I did the same, starting the car as I shut the door. I put the car into drive and started to pull away from the curb before saying, "I'm serious, and you are really great with people."

"So are you," Sam said.

I laughed, "I'm great with guys 'cos they want to impress me, with other people I just flounder like a fish on water."

Sam laughed, but whatever response he had was cut off by the shrill ringing of his phone. He checked the ID before answering the phone, "You're on speaker."

" _Stiffs are calling people all over town_ ," Dean said.

"Yeah, we noticed," I said, flipping on the turn signal as I headed back toward the motel.

" _I just talked to a grandmother who's having phone sex with her husband who died in Korea_ ," Dean said.

I busted out laughing, "She didn't use hand gestures to demonstrate this, did she?"

"Ew," Sam said, causing me to laugh harder, "You really had to go there?"

" _Completely rocked my understanding of the word necrophilia_ ," Dean said, disgust clear in his tone.

"Any idea what's going on, then?" Sam asked.

" _Beats me, but we better find out soon_ ," Dean said, " _This place is turning into spook central_."

"Yeah," Sam sighed, "All right, we'll meet you back at the hotel."

" _Yeah_ ," Dean said and the line went dead.

I smiled, "What do you think 50's phone sex sounds like?"

"I don't want to know," Sam said, trying to hide his own smile.

Sam and I arrived back at the hotel before Dean, giving us enough time to dress in our civilian clothes. I ducked into the bathroom to pull on a pair of torn jeans and long sleeved black hoodie with a large pocket over the abdomen. Once Sam had called that he was dressed, I walked into the main room to pull on my boots on as Dean walked into the room. He looked from Sam to me, his face twisted into a serious freaked out look.

"We need to talk," Dean said, slamming the door shut before gathering up a change of clothes and disappearing into the bathroom.

Sam and I shared a look, and he sat down on the bed. I joined him, feeling like to teens about to get a lecture from their father, to wait the few moments it took for Dean to reemerge from the bathroom dressed in his usually getup. He paced in front of us a few times before flopping on the couch to pull on his boots.

"The suspense is killing me," I said.

Dean glanced up at me, tying his boots, "I got a call from… From Dad."

Sam stiffened beside me. I looked from one brother to the other and back again, "And by Dad you mean…?"

"Our father," Dean said, rising to his feet and pacing again.

"Dad?" Sam asked, shaking his head with disbelieve, "I mean, Dad? You really think it was Dad?"

"I don't know," Dean said, looking spooked again as he paced back and forth in the hotel room, "Maybe."

My mouth hung open as I tried to think of something to say. It made since of course that if other people were taking to their dead loved ones, then so could we. The thought was actually kind of horrifying. After everything that had just happened, I didn't think I was mentally prepared to speak with the dead. I imagined getting a call from my own father and a shiver ran down my spine.

"Well, what did he sound like?" Sam asked, pulling me back to the present.

"Like Oprah," Dean snipped, turning to face his brother, "It was Dad, he sounded like Dad, what do you think?"

"What does Dad sound like?" I muttered at the same time Sam threw up his arms and said, "What did he say?"

"My name," Dean said, pacing back toward us. He didn't look at me, so I wasn't sure if he had heard my comment or not. Most likely my presence made this even harder for him to talk about, everything I knew about their past had come from Sam. Dean attention was focused on the one person who understood him.

"That's it?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, the call dropped out," Dean said.

"Why would he even call in the first place?" Sam asked.

"To order a pizza?" I said sarcastically, "Why is any ghost in this bloody town calling people?"

"Exactly," Dean said, turning away, "But if other people are hearing from their loved ones, why can't we? It's at least a possibility, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," Sam said, shrugging.

"Okay, so what if…?" Dean asked, sitting down on the bed on the other side of Sam. I had to lean forward slightly to see him as he continued, "What if it really is Dad? What happens if he calls back?"

"You answer," I said simply.

"What do I say?" Dean asked.

"Hello," Sam offered.

"Hello?" Dean demanded, and Sam shrugged, "That's what you come back with? Hello?" Dean scoffed and got to his feet. Walking toward the door he snatched up his jacket, he turned back around to glare at Sam, "Hello?"

Dean opened the door and left, pulling it shut behind him. I turned to Sam, "Well, that was fun."

Sam sighed, "We should try and figure out why these ghost are calling people."

I scrunched up my face at the thought of research, "Awe, do we have to?"

Sam patted my shoulder, "Yes."

I groaned, but stood with Sam, dragging my feet as I followed him to the couch and plopped down. Sam plugged in his computer and handed it to me before getting on to Dean's computer. For three hours we buckled down, searching for clues, but couldn't dig up a damn thing. My eyes kept drifting toward the door, unwanted worry seeping in at the fact that Dean had been gone for ages.

I figured he just needed time, which I would have happily given him, but the fact that we were on a hunt investigating a death had me on edge. The least he could do is text to let us know he was okay. Granted he could take care of himself, but that wasn't the point. Plus I really didn't want to do research. I was a few agonizing seconds away from informing Sam I was going to hunt his brother down when the door opened and Dean walked in. Relief washed over me, but I also wanted to smack him for ruining my escape plan.

"Find anything?" Dean asked.

"After three hours, we have found no reason why anything supernatural would be going on here," Sam said.

"Wow, you'd think a Stanford education and high-school hookup rate of 0.0 topped by a Van Helsing would produce better results than that," Dean jested.

Sam chuckled, "Hilarious."

"Just tell us what the hell you found," I snapped. I grabbed the pillow beside me and chucking it at him.

Dean caught the pillow and reached into his pocket, pulling out some paper, "You two kids were just looking in the wrong places."

"And what are the right places, Dean?" Sam asked.

"The motel pamphlet rack," Dean said, tossing his paper in front of Sam, "Milan, Ohio. Birthplace of Tomas Edison."

"The gent' who inventor the telephone?" I asked.

"Keep reading," Dean instructed Sam.

Sam scoffed, opening the brochure and reading in silence. He smiled, looking up at Dean, "You're kidding."

I snatching the brochure from Sam so I could read what big news Dean had managed to find. I raised an eyebrow, turning my attention to Dean, "Anyone up for a history lesson?"

Gathering up our things, we filed into the Impala and drove the ten minutes to the local Tomas Edison exhibit. Like the gentleman he was, Sam paid for all three of us and we joined the next group. Our tour guide, a woman in her late twenties with long wavy brown hair dressed in a black suit, strolled up to us with a too big smile plastered to her face.

"Hello, everybody! I hope you're all as excited about this tour as I am!" The guide said, looking at each of us in turn, "Let's get started!"

The guide led us from room to room, giving us fascinating facts about Edison, telephones, and other historical facts about the area. It wasn't a bad tour, and Sam seemed just as interested as me to learn something new. Dean was just bored.

"And we're walking," the guide said, leading us into another room, "And here we have one of the museum's most unique and treasured possessions: Thomas Edison's 'spirit phone.'" The guide quoted with her fingers. "Did you know that Mr. Edison, while being one of America's most beloved inventors was also a devout 'occultist'? Ooh."

"What's with the quote-y fingers?" Dean whispered.

"He spent years working on this, his final invention," the guide went on, "which he was convinced could be used to 'communicate' with the 'dead.' Pretty spooky, huh?"

"That is a little wired," I whispered back to Dean.

The guide checked her watch, "And we're walking. We are walking. We're walking."

"We are not walking," I sing-sung after her as the group left the room with the Winchesters and I lagging behind.

"And we're not touching that," The tour guide said as she crossed into the next room, "And we're walking. And stop."

I looked that the pile of metal, it looked more like a record player then a phone. It had a box foundation with all kinds of bits and bobs I couldn't begin to know what they were for, and a large metal amplifier. Sam pulled out his EMF and hovered it over the Spirit Phone, but not even a blimp lit up.

"Anything?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head, "Nothing."

Dean looked at me, "What do you think? Ever heard of anything like this?"

"Well, from the sounds of it it's basically the same principle of an Ouija board," I said, shrugging, "Gives the ghost a way to communicate with the living. I have no idea how it works, though."

"Honestly, it kind of looks like an old pile of junk to me," Sam said.

"It's not even plugged in," Dean said.

"Yes, because we all know that ghost can only use electronics that are plugged in," I said, nodding sarcastically.

"Yeah, maybe it didn't work like that," Sam added.

"Okay," Dean said, "Maybe it's like a radio tower, you know? Broadcasting the dead all over town."

"Could be," Sam said with a shrug. It was a good idea as any.

"Well, the caller ID is one hundred years old, right?" Dean asked, "Right around the time this thing was built."

"But why would it start working now?" Sam asked.

"Maybe they didn't even know how to use it," I offered, "I mean, we don't."

"As long as the moldy are calling the freshes, it's the best reason we got," Dean said.

"Yeah, maybe," Sam muttered, looking at the phone.

"So maybe it really is Dad," Dean said.

Silence descended around us. I cleared my throat, "We should probably focus on how to stop this thing from calling out."

"How?" Sam asked, "Like you said, we don't even know how it works."

"Salt and burn would be my go-to," I said, looking to Dean for his thoughts. His eyes where glassed over, his focus on the spirit phone, oblivious to anything other than the fact he could speak with his father again. I placed my hand on his arm to get his attention. His eyes turned to my hand then to me, "It's been a long day, maybe we should get some sleep."

"Right, yeah," Dean said, moving away from me.

I shared one last look with Sam, who was doing a better job of separating himself from this then his brother, before following Dean from the museum. After putting a few more useless hours of research it was decided that we would get some sleep. I ducked into the adjoining room and crawled into bed, shimming out of my jeans after I was safely under the covers. Curling into a ball, I laid in silence for only a few heart beats for slipping into the sweet abyss of sleep.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

Despite the awesomeness of being able to fall asleep, I couldn't stay dead to the world. I had creepy, vivid dreams of a land line ringing nonstop. When I went to answer it dead people would leak out of the mouth piece and each one tried to kill me. No matter how many of them I killed, the phone would continue to ring and more dead would spew out. I woke up sometime after five in the morning and just forced myself to get up.

Throwing the covers off of me with enough force for it to land on the floor, I rolled out of bed and heading to the adjoining door to check on the boys. Sam was still asleep in his bed, but Dean was sitting at the dining table, staring off into space with his phone sitting next to his right hand. I joined Dean at the table, snagging the coffee on the other side of him and taking a sip. I made a face at the black liquid.

"Waiting for your dad to call?" I asked, nodding at the phone.

"No," Dean said automatically. I pursed my lips at him. He may be the world's greatest liar on any given day, but emotion made him as bad as Claire. Dean sighed when my gaze didn't wavier, "Maybe."

"Look, I know you want it to be your father but-" I started, but Dean's phone rang cutting me off.

I caught a glimpse of the caller ID before Dean snatched it up. Walking toward the bathroom as he flipped it open, I heard him say 'Dad' just before he shut the bathroom door. I jumped to my feet, coffee forgotten, and walked into the bathroom without knocking. Closing the door behind me I crossed my arms over my chest and planting my feet firmly on the tile when Dean shot me a death glare.

Knowing it was a waste of time to try and get me to leave, Dean turned away from me and dropped his voice low, focusing on the call. I stayed where I was to give him space, but kept my ears perked to hear as much as the conversation as I could. I couldn't hear anything of what his dad was saying, but Dean's shoulders where slouched forward, his tone almost pleading when he spoke.

"Do what?" Dean asked, pacing toward the window and keeping his back to me, "…I was looking after Sam, like you told me… I'm sorry…. I don't know how to stop it…. What? How?"

Dean spun around, wide eyed as he looked at me. I felt my heart rate jump, "What?"

"Get a pen!" Dean ordered.

I obeyed, slipping out of the room and racing over to grasp the hotel note pad and pen on the night stand between Sam and Dean's bed. I hurried back to the bathroom, barely having time to shut the door before Dean ripped the pad and pen from my hand. I shot him an annoyed look but he had already turned away from me, placing the pad on the back of the toilet and scribbling down whatever his dad was telling him.

"I got it," Dean said into the phone. The call must have dropped because Dean gave it a distraught look before flipping it closed and shoving it into his back pocket.

"What is it?" I asked, reaching forward and snatching the pad from him, flipping around and walking away before he could take it back. I read the Latin words, before turning back to Dean, "This is an exorcism?"

"Yeah," Dean said, snatching the pad back again, "How do you know?"

"'Cos I read Latin, dumbass" I snapped back, "Why would your dad give you an exorcism?"

"He said it can kill a demon," Dean said, pushing past me.

I followed Dean into the main room, Sam still fast asleep in bed. Dean snatched up his computer and sat down on the couch, setting the laptop on the coffee table in front of him. Lifting the lid he begun click-clacking away, holding the exorcism out for him to read the words in the dim light. I walked over and plopped down beside him on the couch, looking over his shoulder.

"Refresh my memory," I whispered, "Did you just say it can _kill_ demons?"

"That's what Dad said," Dean whispered back.

"And, um, you believed him?" I asked slowly.

Dean stopped to look at me, "Do you have a problem?"

I nodded, "Only the fact that I've never heard of an exorcism that could _kill_ a demon."

"You don't know everything, sweetheart," Dean snipped.

"I'm pretty sure that if the was an exorcism like this it would have been the first thing the Circle taught its hunters, sugar," I shot back, not noticing that I was no longer whispering.

"What are you two arguing about now?" Sam demanded groggily, propping himself on one elbow while rubbing his eyes with the closed fist of his other hand.

"Dad called," I told Sam sarcastically, "Had some pretty nifty information for your boy here."

"What?" Sam asked, more awake as he slid his long legs out from under his blanket. He was already starting to stand before his feet hit the ground.

Dean filled in his brother while I sat with my arms crossed, openly protesting the situation. When Dean finished, Sam blinked at him before glancing at me. His mouth hung open but no words came out. The wheels behind his eyes turned, and I wondered how much of this he believed.

Dean cleared his throat, "That's not the only thing he said."

"Oh, yeah?" I asked, forging fake surprise, "What else did daddy dearest tell ya?"

Dean gritted his teeth, glaring at me before turning back to Sam, "He says the demon holding my contract is here."

"Wait, here?" Sam asked, "Like in this town?"

Dean nodded, not glancing in my direction. Probably because I was staring at him, with my own teeth clenched and my arms folded over my chest. It was one thing to get a call from his father, but to also get told that the demon is in the same town and he just happened to have an exorcism that could kill it? It was way too neat, even comply with a pretty gold bow. There were no coincidences for hunters; our luck was not that good.

None of us said anything. Dean returned to his computer and Sam shared a look with me before gathering up some clothes and disappearing into the bathroom. I stood up from the couch and walked over to Sam's bed, lying propped up against the headboard. I dug around in the end table pulling out an old paper copy romance book and flipped it to the front page, ignoring Dean.

I glanced up as Sam exited the bathroom, holding his phone to his ear. He rubbed his lips together before picking up his jacket and sliding it over his shoulders and headed out of the hotel. I glanced back at Dean but his attention was glued to the screen. We sat in silence for several minutes until the ring of a phone had us both sitting up. It was my ringtone.

Slowly I got to my feet, waking over to the phone I had left on the kitchen counter. I reached out, feeling Dean's eyes on me as the burned holes into the back of my head. I grabbed the phone and checked the ID. Breathing a sigh of relief, I flipped the phone open.

"Hey, babe," I said, turning to face Dean. He relaxed slightly, facing his computer as I head toward my room, "What's up?"

"I have some fantastic news!" Claire gushed into the phone.

"Did you grow two more inches?" I asked, poking fun at the fact she was shorter than me.

"No, dummy," Claire giggled, "I have a date this Friday!"

"Congratulations!" I said, sprawling out across the bed. This was a big step for Claire, her trust issues and anxiety made it hard for her to meet new people, let alone go on dates, "Tell me everything!"

"His name is Trevor, his twenty-six," Claire said dreamily, "Super cute, and funny, and he's like 5'10'', and he asked me out!"

I pictured Claire jumping up and down as she danced around the living room, "How long have you known him?"

Claire's excitement drained from her voice, "About a week. He's new at work."

"Oh, fraternizing in the work place," I laughed, pondering this.

"Yeah," Claire giggled, "The thing is I don't really know him…"

"And?" I probed.

"Well, I was kinda hoping you can come back and make sure he wasn't a demon or something," Claire rushed out, "You know, just to be safe."

And there it was. It was only Tuesday so I had plenty of time to get to her before her date. I smiled into the phone, "I'll be there. I'm working a case right now, but I'll be there as soon as possible."

Claire let out a long breath, "Thanks! Have I told you much I love you?"

"Not today," I joked.

Claire giggled, "I'll let you get back to work. Just let me know when you're on your way!"

"Alright, babe," I said, sitting up in bed, "Love ya."

"Love ya too!"

I flipped my phone shut and tossed it to the side. I snatched up my usually hunting attire and headed into the bathroom for a quick shower. After I was dressed, I walked back into the boy's room still drying my hair and brush in hand. I glanced around, surprised Sam wasn't back yet. Dean hadn't seen to noticed, I doubt he had noticed I had left. I tossed my towel aside, sitting on the edge of Sam's bed to brush my hair.

"I'll be damned," Dean muttered under his breath.

"What?" I asked, not sure I could handle this much longer.

"The demon _is_ here," Dean said.

"Dean, stop!" I ordered, tossing my brush aside, "This is crazy!"

"What's crazy?" Sam asked, walking back into the room and slipping his hands in his jacket pocket.

"I think Dad's right," Dean said, grabbing a few of the papers off of the mess in front of him and walking around the coffee table to his brother, "I think the demon is here. Check it out."

Dean walked past Sam to his duffle that was sitting on the edge of his bed, rummaging around for his demon fighting tools. I turned to face him, hoping that he would snap out of the nonsense if I stared at him hard enough. He ignored me.

Sam reviewed the papers, "What is this, weather reports?"

"Omens," Dean informed him, "Demonic omens. Electrical storms everywhere we've been for the past two weeks."

"I don't remember any lightning storms," Sam said carefully.

"Neither do I," I said, much more harshly.

"Well, did either of you study meteorology?" Dean snapped, "But I'm telling you that bastard's been tailing me wearing some poor dude's meat."

"And it's following you because…?" Sam asked, his voice trailing off.

"I guess I'm big game, you know?" Dean said, faking pride, "My ass is too sweet to let out of sight."

I pursed my lips and Sam said, "Okay, sure."

"Don't get too excited, kids," Dean said, marching over and snatching his papers back, "Might pull something."

"Dean," Sam said, rolling his eyes as Dean walked back to his duffle, "I wanna believe this. I really do-"

"Then believe it," Dean ordered, walking back toward Sam, "If we get this sucker it's Miller Time.

"Dean, we are hunters!" I snapped, walking over to stand by Sam, "You're saying that we just _happen_ to go to a town where the dead just _happen_ to be calling loved ones, and you just _happen_ to get a call from your dad who just _happens_ to tell you that the demon with you contract just _happens_ to been in the same town, then your dad just _happens_ to give you an exorcism that just _happens_ to be able to kill a demon?"

"I checked it out," Dean said, pushing past me, "This is heavy-duty Dark Ages. Fifteenth century."

Dean held the paper up to Sam, and I gritted my teeth. Sam didn't take the paper, "Yeah, I checked on it too, Dean. And so did Bobby."

"Okay, and?" Dean asked.

"Look, it definitely is an exorcism, okay?" Sam said softly, "There's just no evidence that it can kill a demon."

"No evidence it can't," Dean said.

"Oh, Dean, come on-" Sam started.

"Hey, as far as I know, the only one of us that's actually been to hell is Dad," Dean pointed out, "Maybe he picked up a couple of tricks there, like which exorcisms work."

"They all work! They're exorcisms, Dean!" I snapped, unable to keep my trap shut, "They expel demons! Not kill them!"

"True's right," Sam said, "We gotta be sure."

"Why aren't we sure?" Dean asked.

"Sorry," I said, "Did you miss the whole 'it's not a coincidence' speech I just did, like, five seconds ago?"

"And we don't know what's going on around here," Sam snapped, "I mean, some guy blows his brains out, a little girl is scared out of her wits."

"Wow, man a couple of civvies are freaked out by some ghosts," Dean snapped back,

"What happened to Lanie?" I asked.

"Her mom's ghost spooked her out pretty bad last night," Sam said.

"News flash, Sam, people are supposed to be freaked out by ghosts," Dean snapped.

I stuck my hands in my pockets to keep from punching him. The girl was sixteen, we had no idea what was after her. Where was the sympathy for her case? I get that he wanted to stop the demon, but he still and time, Lanie could die tomorrow. I clenched my jaw. Maybe I was being too harsh on him; I had no idea what I would do in his place. But I wasn't in his place and something else was happening.

Sam sighed, shaking his head, "Dad tell you where to find the demon?"

"I'm waiting on the call," Dean snapped, pulling the phone out of his pocket.

Sam scoffed, "I told Lanie I'd stop by."

"Oh, good," Dean said sarcastically as Sam turned away, "No, you go hang out with jailbait. Just, uh, watch out for Chris Hansen." Sam turned around with his arms out and a question on his face, but that didn't stop Dean, "Meanwhile, True and I'll be here, you know, getting ready to save my life."

"I'm going with Sam," I said quickly. Dean turned to me with a betrayed look on his face, and I narrowed my eyes at him. I walked toward Sam as he turned for the door, "I'm going to go with Sam so that maybe we can stop this thing, the real thing, before you do something stupid."

"You two are unbelievable, you know that?" Dean demanded, "I mean, for month's we've been trying to break this demon deal. Now Dad's about to give us the freaking address and you can't accept it?" Dean turned his glare to Sam, "The man is dead and you're butting heads with the guy."

"That's not what this is about," Sam said, spinning around again to face his brother.

"Then what is it?"

"The fact is, we got no hard proof here, Dean," Sam nearly shouted, "After everything, you're still just going on blind faith."

"Yeah, well, maybe," Dean admitted, his voice rising as well, "You know, maybe that's all I got, okay?"

Despite how stupid he was being, I had to fight back the desire to run over and wrap my arms around him. It was almost too tempting, but I knew he would shrug me off. He wouldn't let me be there when he needed it the most. The thought squeezed my heart to near bursting.

"Please," Sam said gently, "Just please don't go anywhere until we get back, okay, Dean? Please."

Dean looked from Sam to me and the back again, but made no promise. Sam turned back around, his jacket brushing my arm as he reached for the door. I hesitated as he opened it. Dean's eyes fell on me; I could feel Sam waiting as the warm light poured into the room as he opened the door.

"If the info had come from anyone else other than your dad, would you have believed them?" I didn't give Dean a chance to answer. I turned on my heel and walked out the door, Sam following behind me.

I slid into the passenger seat of the rental, and buckled. Slouching low, I crossed my arms over my chest and stared out the window as Sam started the call. For the first several minutes on the way to Lanie's house neither of us spoke, but I could feel Sam's eyes on me every now and then. He'd shift as if he were going to say something, but remained silent.

"What?" I asked softly.

"You really don't believe it could be our dad?" Sam asked.

I shrugged, "I doubt it. Stuff like this doesn't happen, it's not that easy. Nothing handed to you on a sliver platter should be taken at face value."

"You don't believe in miracles?"

"No," I said, turning my head to look out the window as the world rushed past, "I don't."

We didn't speak the rest of the way to Lanie's house. We parked the car in the same spot as before, walking up to her door in silence. Sam reached up to knock, but the door flew open and Lanie stood in the entry way.

"You came," she said.

"Of course," Sam said, he looked around the house, "Where did it happen?"

"My bedroom," Lanie said, turning on her heels, "It's this way."

Sam and I followed Lanie deeper into the house and up a flight of stairs. We passed her little brothers room and I glanced in to see him playing with some toys at a kids table. Rounding the railing of the stairs, Lanie led us into her room. It was cute, definitely a teens room. The upper half of the walls had green wallpaper, the lower half white. There were posters on the walls, a few family photos and stuffed toys. There was a desk with a computer and a dresser and of course a bed. It was neat, everything had its place and the bed made.

Sam pulled out an EMF and started scanning the room for ghost, and I walked around to find any evidence of something left behind by the supernatural. Lanie watched in silence, her arms warped around her to protect her. After making a full circle around the room I stopped back at the door, disappointed that I hadn't found anything. Sam shoved the EMF back into his pocket, not coming up with anything either.

"Have you told your father about any of this?" Sam asked, walking around to join me.

"And bother him at work?" Lanie asked, "No. He wouldn't believe me, anyway. He'd just chuck me into therapy."

"He probably would even if he did," I said, earning a confused look from Lanie and a 'Shut Up' look from Sam. I focused on Lanie, "You need to talk about your problems. It's healthy."

"So, what did your mom say?" Sam asked, turning back to the girl. I slipped back into my role of just letting Sam do his thing, leaning against the wall.

"That she wanted to see me," Lanie said, "At first I thought I was supposed to go to the cemetery."

"Did you?" Sam asked.

"Nothing happened," Lanie said, "But then she started asking me to do other things."

"What sort of things?" Sam asked.

"Bad things," Lanie whispered. Tears filled her eyes and she turned away from us.

"Lanie, please," Sam asked gently. "Tell us what happened. It's very important."

"Mom told me to go to Dad's medicine cabinet," she spun back around with tears streaming down her face.

"And?" Sam continued.

"Take his sleeping pills," Lanie sobbed, "Take all his sleeping pills."

I shoved away from the wall and hurried across the room. I wrapped my arms around Lanie, holding her as she hunched over and took hold of my arm. She leaned against me, sobbing into my shoulder. I ran my hand over her hair, making calming noises. There was all actually starting to sound oddly familiar. I racked my brain for monsters that would try to get people to commit suicide.

Demons would do it because suicide was a sin and you'd go to hell. Not to mention all the soul-eaters there are throughout the world. It was probably easier to eat a soul right after the death of the host, when the soul is primed for leaving the body. There were too many to count, we needed to narrow this bitch down.

"She wanted you to kill yourself?" Sam asked, dragging me out of my mental monster filing room.

Lanie pulled away from me enough to nod, "Why would my mom want me to do that?"

"I don't know," Sam admitted.

"I mean, just so I could come to her?" Lanie asked.

I pulled away from her faster than I had meant to, "What now?"

Lanie looked at me confused, "She wanted me to come to her."

"No," Sam said, I looked over to see the light bulb flashing in his eyes, "How did she say it exactly?"

"'Come to me.' Like, a million times," Lanie sobbed.

Sam and I shared a look, "That is not your mum, pet."

"Listen to me," Sam ordered, turning as he headed out of the room, "Don't answer the phone. Don't use the computer. Don't do anything unless I say to, all right?" Sam headed down the steps, stopping so suddenly I had to place my hand on his shoulder to keep my balance, "Lanie?"

Lanie had stopped, starring into her kid brothers room. She flipped around to face us, her hair fanning out around her, "Where's Simon?"

As panic set in to Lanie, the three of us spit up to check every inch of the house. When we came up empty, Sam ordered Lanie to check the back yard as he and I rushed out the front. After a quick scan of the front yard conformed that Simon wasn't there, we ran past the bush wall. Glancing around again, we didn't speak as Sam took off to the right and I ran down the side walk on the left.

I ran down the street, looking around every corner and over every fence calling out Simon's name. I got a few stranger looks from people, pausing long enough to ask them if they had seen the kid before racing off again. I ran down block after block before stopping at a crossroad, panting. There was no way we could find him just the three of us, the town was too big. I gritted my teeth, spinning in circles hoping against hope that I would see him.

My phone rang. I almost dropped it digging it out of my pocket, I checked the ID to see Puppy Dog Eyes and flipped it open, "'Ello?"

" _I got him_ ," Sam said, " _Meet me back at the car._ "

"Alright," I breathed a sigh of relief and hung up the phone.

Turning, I ran back down the street. I returned to the rental just as Lanie was ushering her brother into the house and Dean came strutting down the walkway. In unison we got into the car, Sam behind the wheel. He started the car and pulled out onto the street before pulling his phone out and handed it to me. I dialed Dean's number, putting the phone on speaker. He answered on the second ring.

"Dean, it's not Dad," Sam said into the phone as we speed down the street.

" _What is it_?" Dean asked.

"A crocotta," Sam said.

" _Is that a sandwich_?" Dean asked.

"It's a mythical scavenger thing that lurks in the forest and calls out to its victims by mimicking voices and lures them to their death," I said, "They are from India and Ethiopia."

"It whispers 'Come to me,'" Sam said, "Lures you into the dark and swallows your soul."

" _Crocotta, right_ ," Dean said, " _Damn, that makes sense_."

"Dean, look, I'm sorry, man," Sam stumbled out, "I know-"

" _Don't these things live in filth?_ "

"Yeah," Sam and I said in unison.

" _The files at the phone company_ ," Dean said.

"Stewie boy," I grimaced as I hung up the phone, "Filth is probably his middle name."

The drive to the phone company seemed to go by in a blink of any eye. Sam parked a block away so that no one would know we were coming. Sam took the lead, keeping his arm out slightly to keep my back and safe. We wandered down the back of the building. I kept watch as Sam peered into the window. Banging in the distance caught my attention and I glanced around, but there was nothing out of the ordinary.

"He's leaving," Sam said, appearing beside me and motioning for me to follow.

Keeping low Sam and I weaved through the rows of cars, pausing when Stewie came into sight. Sam pulled out his phone calling Dean. I leaned around a car as Stewie walked away from the building, presumably toward his own car.

"Dean, we're in the parking lot," Sam hissed into the phone, "He's here. Hurry."

Stewie made it to his car with his back to us. He pulled his keys out of his pocket to unlock the door. Sam pushed Stewie against the car, his broad frame keeping him pinned. I stepped up beside him, ready to get involved if things went south.

"What the hell?" Stewie yelled.

"We know what you are!" Sam said, "And we know how to kill you."

"Wait, mister," Stewie begged, "Please! If we're over charging you for the call waiting or something I can fix that, I'm you friend. Please, just don't kill me."

I heard the swinging of something before I saw the bat out of the corner of my eye. Defensively my arm shot up, palm out catching the bat before it could smash into my face. Holding on to the bat I lifted it up as I spun around slamming my knee into my assailants gut. He stubbled, ripping the bat from my grasped as he straighten. I stared wide at Clark.

"Really?" I asked, "You?"

"True!" Sam called from behind me.

I instantly turned to check to make sure Sam was okay. Sam moved forward, but a blow landed against the back of my head. My knees hit the ground and darkness engulfed me. Light swirled around the back of my eyelids; I was sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss. I wanted to wake up , I tried to wake up. _Someone please wake me up!_

A shout ripped me from the darkness, I jerked awake in time to see Clark bring a silver blade down, slamming it into Stewie's chest, killing him instantly. I gasp escaped my lips, and I franticly looked around to find Sam tied to a chair a few feet from me. I glanced down at my own arms; they were tied with some electrical wires.

A chair squeaked and I glanced up as Clark turned Stewie's dead body around so it was facing him. He opened his mouth to reveal two rows of razor sharp teeth. He squatted down in front of Stewie in a pose that had to be killer on his thighs, and gripped Stewie's shoulder before leaning toward him and sucking Stewie's soul out of his nose and mouth. Clark's cheeks glowed as he gobbled it up, I grimaced at the sight. Once the soul was completely devoured, Clark stood and whipped his mouth on his hand.

"My last call with Dean," Sam said, "That was you. You lead us here."

Clark cracked his neck, turning to look at Sam and I, "Some calls I make, some calls I take. But you have to admit, I had you fooled for a while. All that Edison phone crap. Oh, well."

Clark walked over to some sorta switch board, placing his hand on the glass as the lights underneath lit up. He closed his eyes, his body tensing as he began to get to work doing his freaky-deaky bad mojo. A small smile played on his lips. I pulled at my bindings, wishing I could get a hold of my razor wire and chop his smug little head off.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked.

Clark leaned back, looking utterly relaxed as he looked at Sam, "I'm killing your brother. Or maybe I'm killing another guy. We'll just have to see how it goes."

Clark turned back to his work, I turned to my bindings. I wiggled my wrist back and forth, trying to create enough space to get my hands fee. The wires dug into my skin, leaving behind red marks as I pulled. I groaned in frustration and stopped, leaning back in my chair with a sigh.

Clark walked over to Stewie's dead body, placing one hand on his shoulder he pulled out the blade. Clark pushed Stewie so his chair rolled across the room and into the wall. I glanced down to see I was on a wheeled chair too, using the tip of my toes I pushed it backwards an inch. I looked up to see Clark staring at me, he smiled.

I rolled my eyes at him, "Why, Grandma, what big teeth you have."

"I think I'll kill you last," Clark said. He walked around behind me and leaned forward, burying his nose in my hair and breathing in a deep breath through his nose, "I doubt there's anything sweeter than a Van Helsing."

"I don't know, I might be too tough for you to chew," I warned, turning my head slightly to look at him, "You might choke."

"Or first," Clark said, running his hand into the hair on the back of my head and yanking my head back, "I doubt it will be a taste I'll soon forget."

"You now mimicking Dean is one thing," Sam said, getting Clarks attention, "But my dad, that's a hell of a trick."

"Well, once I made you three as hunters, it was easy," Clark gloated. He released me and walked toward Sam waiving the blade in his face as he lowered himself to Sam's level, "Found Dean's number, then your number, then your father's number. Then to e-mails, voice mails. Everything." Clark straightened to glance back at me, "Even some juicy gossip about the Circle. You see, people think that that stuff just gets erased. But it doesn't. You'd be surprised at how much of yourself is just floating out there, waiting to be plucked."

"Dean's not gonna fall for this," Sam said, earning Clark's attention, "He's not gonna kill that guy."

"Then the guy kills him," Clark said.

"Doubt it," I muttered, loud enough for Clark to glance back at me, "All that information you gathered, and you still don't know shit."

"You think? Technology," Clark scoffed, turning back to Sam and using the blade to swipe a piece of his hair out of his face, "Makes life so much easier. Used to be I'd hide in the woods for days, weeks, whispering to people. Trying to draw them out into the night, but they had community. They all looked out after each other. I'd be lucky to eat maybe one, two souls a year. But now when I'm hungry, I simply make a phone call. You're all so connected, but you've never been so alone."

"Well, sugar," I said, "I hate to tell you this, but you getting kinda fat."

Clark looked at me with a smile on his face. He opened his mouth, showing his gnarly teeth and spun around, holding the blade high to stab Sam. I turned around in my chair and launched myself backward. The wheels slid across the ground as I slammed into Clark, knocking him away from Sam. Sam shot to his feet, free of his binds and tackled Clark to the ground knocking the blade toward me.

Sam reached for it, but Clark got to his feet. Grabbing Sam by the back of his jacket he yanked him off the floor and threw him in the cage wall. Clark made a move for them blade, but I kicked his hand away before slamming the heel of my boot into his face knocking him on his back. I locked the knife between my feet, twisting my lower half I could grab the blade with my right hand. Flipping the blade inward I began slicing the wire that bound me to the chair.

Clark got back to his feet and gave me an upper cut that whipped my head back. He grabbed me by the shirt and yanked me to my feet before throwing my across the room. I slammed against the floor, the blade slipping from my grasp as I slide back crashing into Stewie's chair. Clark rushed toward me, but I jumped onto the nearby table. I spun just as moved to the perfect distance from me.

I somersaulted off the table, kicking Clark in the face before I landed on my feet. Clark stood was instantly tackled by Sam, shoving Clark backward into one of the monitor of lights and switches. Sam brought the blade up and down, but Clark grabbed hold of Sam's wrist. I rushed to help just as Clark punched Sam, sending him in a half circle and crashing into me and knocking us both flat.

Sam rolled off of me just as Clark jumped on top of him, bringing the blade down but Sam blocked him. Clutching each other the both fought to overpower the other. I rolled to my feet and landed a kick to Clark's face, knocking him off Sam. Clark rolled to his feet closer to the far wall. I glanced behind him seeing a metal hook, perfect for stabbing.

I ran at Clark, jumping and landed a drop kick to his chest. I dropped to the ground and did a back flip so that I was back on me feet. Landing with my feet spread and my fist high, I looked at Clark. He was staring at me wide eyed; blood had exploded across the wall behind him and trickling out of his mouth. I smiled smugly at him as he choked on his own, taking his dying breath.

"Nice," Sam panted, taking me by the elbow as he turned me toward the door.

I stumbled a bit, my energy already wearing off. I shrugged as I followed Sam back down the hall, dragging one hand across the wall to stay on me feet, "You weren't so bad yourself."

"Well, you did tell him you were too tough," Sam said, and I laughed.

I wrapped my arm around his waist for support as we left the phone company one last time. I silently cursed the fact that we had parked so far way. Ever the gentlemen, Sam opened the passenger door for me and helped me into my seat. He shut the door before moving open to the drivers' side and sliding into the seat. He paused, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

This time he didn't put the phone on speak as he dialed Dean's number and held the phone to his ear. A heartbeat passed before Sam said, "You good...? They guy…? Alright, we'll meet you back at the motel."

Sam tucked the phone into his pocket and started the car. I slid down in my seat, resting my head against the seat so that I could look at Sam, "All good?"

"Yeah," Sam said, giving me a tired smile, "All good."

I must have fallen asleep on the ride back to the motel. One minute we were just pulling onto the street, then I blinked, and suddenly Sam was shutting off the car. I got out, eager to get into some sweats and an over sized shirt. I walked into the boy's room, ducking into my room as Sam walked into their bathroom.

As I shut my door I heard Dean say, "I see they improved your face."

I stripped down to my underwear as I walked into the bathroom to assess my injuries. I had a welt on my jaw and the back of my head hurt like a mother fucker. My knees were scrapped from hitting the pavement; everything else was pretty standard fighting bruises. I left the bathroom and pulled on some comfy clothes before opening the door an inch, freezing as voices drifted over.

"I can't," Dean was saying, "I wanted to believe so badly that there was a way out of this. I mean, I'm staring down the barrel at this thing. You know, hell. For real, forever. And I'm just… I'm scared. I'm really scared."

"I know," Sam said softly.

"I guess I was willing to believe anything," Dean said, "Last act of a desperate man."

"There's nothing wrong with having hope," Sam said.

"Hope doesn't get you jack squat," Dean said, trying, and failing, to pry my arms lose, "I can't expect Dad to show up with some miracle at the last minute. I can't expect anybody to, you know? The only person that can get me out of this thing is me."

"And me," Sam added.

"Me too," I said, walking back into the room.

"'And me'?" Dean asked Sam before turning to me, "'Me too'?"

"What?" Sam asked.

"Deep revelation, having a real moment here, that's what you two come with?" Dean asked.

"Do you want a poem?" Sam asked.

"Moment's gone," Dean said.

"Poems can bring the mood back," I offered.

"You know a poem?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"Who do you think you're talking to?" I asked, " _Out of the night that covers me, black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance, I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeoning of chance, my head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears, looms but the Horror of the shade, and yet the menace of the years finds, and shall find, me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, how charged with punishments the scroll. I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul_."

"What was that?" Dean asked, clenching his jaw.

"A poem by William Ernest Henley," I said softly, "My favorite."

"It's nice," Sam said.

"It's called _Invictus_ ," I informed them, "It's Latin for unconquered."

"Whatever," Dean said.

He grabbed the remote off of the bed behind him and clicked on the TV. Picking up two beers off the ground, he offered one to Sam, who took it. He popped the lid off another before holding it out for me. I took it and sat down next to Dean and took a long swig. Dean grabbed another bottle, opening it and taking a long swig.

"I'm leaving," I informed them suddenly, "Claire has a date Friday, wants me there."

"Really?" Dean scoffed, "You are going to go all the way back to salt lake, for a date? I'll never understand women."

"So, you're just gonna leave?" Sam asked.

I looked at him offend, "I'll come back. It's only for a couple of days."

Sam nodded and turned back to the TV, taking another swig of his beer. I did the same, the three of us lapsing into silence as we watch some rerun of a show I had never seen before. I tried to focus on the show, but my mind wondered. I thought about Claire, to Sam and Dean, to the Shadow. It felt like everything was rushing up to me but moving at a snail's pace.

I wondered what life would be like a month from now, two months. Would I still run off to visit Claire? Would Sam and I be hunting together, carrying on the family business? Would Dean be alive or dead? I felt eyes on me again, and I shifted uncomfortably. I felt the sensation of falling again, the darkness taking over me. I took another sip of my beer, trying to take comfort in the fact I wasn't alone. At least, not yet.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter Thirty**

 **Now**

I wish I could say that my dreams are usually filled with dancing pizza cartoons and zombie clown apocalypses, but lately they were more cryptic then that. Each morning when I wake up I felt phantom crawlers on my skin, as if someone had run their hands along my arms, but my skin was cold. My heart was bounding as if I had run ten miles, my breath shallow, and the unmistakable feeling that I was being watched. I lied in my bed, blinking up at the ceiling, gritting my teeth as I replayed the dream over in my mind.

I had dreamt I was standing in a plain white room. It was too white, as if the walls themselves gave off light to make everything blinding. There were no doors or windows in this white room, but in the corner diagonal from me there was a shadow. The Shadow was unaffected by the brightness around it, as if it was a black hole sucking everything in. I could make out no features to the face, but I could feel the shadow staring at me.

I had narrowed my eyes, examining the shadow. It was in the shape of a woman, several inches taller than me. She had a slim frame, standing straight with her shoulders back. I could feel the shadow watching me back, but nothing ever happened. Neither of us moved and neither of us talked, I was getting tired of the standoff. We just stood around very boringly, western gun fight style without the guns. Then I would wake up, feeling more tired than when I went to bed.

There could be a lot of meanings to this dream. Like the fact that since the person is unknown to me could mean that change is coming. I even Googled that dreaming of mystery means that someone is going to trouble me with their problems and ask me to help them with it or that I was neglecting duties. Since this wasn't the first time I had seen the Shadow, I was leaning toward bad things were coming my way.

Heaving a sigh I rolled out of bed and dragged my feet along the carpet of my bedroom to the bathroom. After a long shower I dressed in a pair of designer jeans and a faded Jurassic Park t-shirt, brushed my hair and headed for the living room. The smell of fresh coffee and bacon lulling me from my haze, and I perked up at the thought of food.

It was late, nearly five in the afternoon. I had gotten back late last night and Claire and I spent the entire night catching up and drinking wine until five in the morning. After that we crashed and slept the day away. Needless to say, I was pretty freaking hunger for something that would help with my hangover.

I slid onto one of the bar stoles that belong to the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. I slapped my hand onto the counter and gestured for Claire, "Bar wench, bring me some ale! I wish to get besotted!"

"Really, True?" Claire giggled, "Can you not act like a barbarian?"

"Don't sass me, wench!" I bellowed, "Bring me some ale!"

Smiling, Claire grabbed a mug from beside her and slid it across the counter to me. The delicious smell of bitter coffee filled my nose with its awakening aroma. I breathed in deep through my nose and moaned.

"Oh, sweet ambrosia!" I said, and swayed dramatically, "Oh my goodness, the smell!" I took a sip, "Oh, and the taste! Life is good."

"Dork," Claire muttered under her breath.

"You're just jealous," I retorted.

Claire shrugged, giving me a sly look, "Maybe. Eat."

I smiled, staring down into my coffee, "You sound like Dean."

"And there it is," Claire said.

I raised my brow at her, "There's what?"

"Is that why you've been moping about?" Claire asked, "'Cos you miss him?"

"I'm not moping about," I informed her.

"Did you sleep with him?" Claire asked.

I shook my head, "Let's not talk about it, right now. This is your day."

"Alright, I'll drop it for now," Claire said, "But only because it's late and we have a lot to do today."

After eating our fill of bacon, eggs, and pancakes that weren't fully cooked, Claire and I set out to get ready for her date. The first stop was getting our nails done. I chose a sexy red color with gel nail polish so that it would hopefully last through a couple of hunts, while Claire got classic French tips. Next we swung by the salon to get out hair trimmed, I went ahead and cut off a couple extra inches so that my hair fell down to the middle of my back. The last thing we did was hit the mall, buying a simple yet elegant white dress with off the shoulder sleeves and flaunted her slim legs, along with a new pair of heels and a few other things.

By the time we had finished it was just after six and we headed home with just two hours until her date. Claire took a quick shower when we got back then we multitasked with Claire doing her makeup and me drying and curling her hair. Claire went with the more natural look while still making her blue eyes pop. When we finished she looked just as beautiful as ever, but still homely. As she sat in front of her mirror I noticed her hands were shaking and knew that the anxiety was setting in.

Claire opened her mouth, fear in her eyes, but I cut her off, "No, you are not canceling this date. Do you like the boy?" Claire nodded. "Then go on the date."

Claire took a slow, calming breath, "Okay, I can do this."

"Yes, you can," I confirmed. I reached into one of the shopping bags and pulled out a white box that held a long thin jewelry case inside. Motioning for Claire to scoot over on her makeup bench, I sat down beside her and helped the box out to her, "This is for you."

"What is it?" Claire asked, taking the box. She opened the box, and slid the jewelry case into her hand. She flipped it open to reveal the elegant silver bracelet inside, gasping at the site. It was a slim bracelet alternating between little hearts and diamond stars before ending with a heart charm, "It's beautiful."

"It's made of silver and iron," I said, reaching over and pulling the bracelet out of the case and motioning her to give me her right wrist so I could clasp it on her, "I had it specially made for you. Touch someone with this and you'll be able to tell if their supernatural."

Claire through her arms around me, hugging me close, "Thank you."

I smiled, carefully hugging her back to not crinkle her dress, "I also put a little bottle of holy water and one of salt in your purse, just in case."

"Okay," Claire said pulling away from me and slipping on her new white heels before standing in front of me, "Who do I look?"

I tilted my head to the side, "Like a fairytale princess."

Claire giggled just as the door bell rang, "Okay, go tell him a need a couple extra minutes then I'll be right out."

"Sure thing, boss," I said, standing.

I walked out of Claire's room as she begun double checking her makeup and outfit. Reaching the door I pulled it open to find a man about my age standing in the door way. He was cute, about six feet tall. He had a round face and a bit of a belly, but his warm hazel eyes were almost as puppy dog as Sam. He was dressed in jeans and a green button up shirt, with his hair neatly styled into spikes.

"Uh, hi," the guy said, smiling at me nervously, "I'm Marcus. I have a date with Claire tonight."

I smiled brightly at him, "She's almost ready. Come on in." I stepped aside so Marcus can enter our apartment, making it past the demon trap under the entryway rug. Smiling at him some more I led him into the living room, motioning him to sit on the couch. "I'm True, by the way, Claire's roommate."

"Nice to meet you," Marcus said, rubbing his hand on his jeans.

We sat in silence for about, with me leaning back on the couch and Marcus looking any were but at me, until Claire finally walked out of her room. She walked down the stairs like Cinderella walking into the ball, her hand gliding along the railing. Marcus rose to his feet, eyes wide as Claire came to stand in front of him. She paused, a blush spread across her checks making them twice as rose as before.

"Hi, Marcus," Claire said nervously, "Sorry I took so long."

"It was worth it," Marcus rushed out, "I mean, you look beautiful."

A smile spread across Claire's face and she tucked a stray hair behind her ear, "Thank you."

I pressed my lips together to hide my smile. Claire and Marcus stared at each other for a few moments before I could hold my tongue any longer. Standing to my feet I said, "We'll you two kids best be going, lest you miss… whatever it is you are doing."

"Oh, right," Marcus said, quickly turning toward the door as if someone had pressed the fast forward button.

Claire smiled at me before following after him with a bounce in her step. I followed as well, waiting as Claire grabbed her purse and slipped it over her shoulder. Marcus opened the door, allowing Claire to walk out first. Marcus flashed me a smile before trailing after Claire, leaving me to shut the door behind them.

I walked over to the kitchen and made myself a cup of tea before curling up on the couch with a book by Charlaine Harris. I flipped the book open and got lost within the pages of yet another mystery, not paying attention to the time or that my tea had turned cold. I didn't glance up until the front door opened and Claire came twirling inside, shutting the door behind her. I shut my book and tossed it on the coffee table as Claire dropped onto the couch beside me, a huge smile on her face.

"I take it the date went well?" I asked, smiling back at her.

"It was perfect!" Claire gushed, "We went and saw a movie, then got dinner. He took me to a really nice restaurant, the food was amazing! And we kissed."

I slapped Claire playfully on the knee, "Oh my god, kissing on the first date? Quite the scandal!"

"Shut up," Claire said, her smile never faulting, "He walked me to the door to say goodnight and I just couldn't help myself!"

"You go girl, get some!" I laughed, "I'm glad you date went well."

"Yeah," Claire said with a happy sigh, "But these heels are killing me."

"That's what you get for wearing new shoes on a date," I said, watching Claire kick of the shoes.

"Yeah, but they matched my dress," Claire pointed out, "I'm going to go wash all this makeup off my face."

"Alright," I said, snagging my book from the coffee table, "I'm gonna read some more."

"Alright," Claire said, dropping her purse on the coffee table and patting my head as she passed.

I swatted at her hand, but it was too late, she was too far away from me. Smiling I turned back to my book, turning it to the page I had left off on just as my phone rang. Sighing, I snapped my book shut digging my phone out of my back pocket. I checked the caller idea before flipping it open and held it to my ear.

"Hiya, Sammy," I said, examining me nails for imperfections.

" _Uh, hey, True_ ," Sam said, " _Bad time_?"

"Nope," I said, glancing at my book, "I was just reading. What's up?"

" _I have kind of, um, a crazy question to ask you_ ," Sam paused before saying, " _Was Frankenstein real_?"

"Yeah," I said, "I mean, he was. The Frankenstein's where some bad blood, into some real dark shit. They were hunted down a while back, the bloodline whipped out… Why?"

" _I think I found a way to save Dean_ ," Sam said.

"By Freankenstein-ing him?" I scoffed, "You can't be serious."

" _Just listen_ ," Sam said, " _There was this guy who got his liver cut out and was stitched up with Silk, not common today but was used in the_ -"

"Early 19th century," I interrupted, "Let's go ahead and skip the history lesson, Sam."

" _Doc Benton_ ," Sam continued, I heard the ruffling of paper before he said, " _He lived in New Hampshire, brilliant, but obsessed with alchemy, especially how to live forever. I'm gonna send you a picture_ …"

My phone chimed a few seconds later and I pulled it way from my ear to look at the picture. My guess was that I was looking at a page from the infamous John Winchester journal. It was a picture of the ancient alchemy sigil of the Ouroboros, with a dragon eating its own tail in a never ending cycle. It's Greek, a little over three thousand years old. The worlds **ETERNAL LIFE** scribbled around the Ouroboros, confirming what I already knew.

"He was into using alchemy to live forever," I stated, placing the phone back against my ear.

" _Right_ ," Sam said, sounding impressed, " _In 1816 the doc abandoned his practice and whatever he was doing kept him alive all this time_."

"That's your master plan to save Dean?" I asked, "Eternal life?"

" _Benton can't die_ ," Sam said, " _We find out how he did it, we can save Dean. He can't go to hell if he can't die_."

"How does Dean feel about this?"

" _He's, uh, not here_ ," Sam said.

"Where is he?" I asked. I thought it was impossible for them to split up, bound at the hip and all that.

" _Canaan, Vermont_ ," Sam said, " _He's going after Bela to try and get the Colt_."

"I doubt she still has it," I pointed out.

" _Yeah, same here, anyway there are some hunting cabins not far from where I am_ ," Sam said, " _Benton's picky where he sets up shop, needs access to a river or stream or some kind of water_. _I'm going to check them out_."

"Where are you, Sam?"

" _Erie, Pennsylvania_ ," Sam said.

 **Then**

After checking out all of the other abandon houses and farms that Sam had marked on his map, Dean parked the Impala at the one farthest from town. Shutting off the engine, Dean looked out at the rickety old building that was falling apart and prayed that Sam was inside. Giving himself one moment to steady himself, Dean got out of the car. He checked his gun as we walked toward the house.

Dean gritted his teeth as he walked around the overgrown shrubbery. It was stupid of him to leave Sam alone; he should have forced him to come with him. If anything happened to his brother, Dean wasn't sure what he would do. He had to get him back; all of this could not have been worth nothing.

Approaching the house, Dean lurked by a window. It was dark inside; he could just make out the furniture inside from the glow of the moon. He couldn't see any sign of moment, and an unwanted fear took root in his chest. Two voices in the back of his mind argued, one telling him that Sam wasn't here and the other telling him to check inside. The rational voice one, there was no way Dean was going to leave until he was sure that his brother wasn't inside.

Dean made his way to the door, reaching for the handle just as a shadow moved out of the corner of his eye. He flipped around and lifting his gun and cocking it, pointing it squarely between True's eyes. He looked at her in surprise, lowering his gun he hissed, "Damn it, True, don't sneak up on me like that."

""Oh, I'm sorry, what was I supposed to do, bang a drum?" True whispered back sarcastically, but a smile played on her lips. Her skin seemed to glow slightly under the light of the moon, her brown eyes black.

"I thought you were in Utah," Dean whispered, turning back toward the door.

"Sam called asking questions about immortality," True whispered back, "He said you where in Vermont so I came to help him."

Dean didn't say anything else as he took the door handle and gently turned it, pushing open the door. He stepped inside, feeling True follow after him. He made sure he kept in front of her to protect her just in case anyone jumped out at them. Dean knew she was allowing him to take the lead, he knew she could take care of herself. He had seen her kick ass before, but he was glad she let him take the lead.

Dean glanced around for any sign of Sam, but couldn't see anything that might have belonged to him. He took careful steps toward the back of the house, glancing behind him every so often to see that True was silently following behind. As the approached the kitchen, Dean could hear the soft mummer of voices beneath the floorboard. True tugged on his jacket, getting his attention and pointed to a doorway. Dean walked over, and glanced in to see stairs leading to the basement.

Spinning around to nod to True, Dean paused when he saw a bottle of chloroform sitting on the kitchen counter. Dean brushed past True and grabbed the bottle, the light bulb clicking off in his head. He pulled out his knife and walked over to the sink, running the chloroform over the knife before tucking it back into its holder. He walked back to True, leaning forward to whisper to her his lips accidently brushed against her ear.

Out of reflect, True flinched away. She turned back to Dean, raising an eyebrow. Dean leaned forward again, more carful this time, and whispered, "I'll distract him, you get Sam."

True nodded and allowed Dean to descend the stairs first. True stayed out of sight and Dean walked toward the voices, hearing Sam whimper. Dean pulled out his gun, pointing it at Benton before letting of several rounds into the docs back. Benton, unaffected by the bullet holes, turned to face Dean. He walked forward, pushing dirty brown cloth that hung in the doorway aside.

He was an older man with gray hair and two different eye colors, the more visible one was the left one which had an unnatural grey color to it. There were stitching running down the middle of his forehead and the right edge of his nose down to his lip, and another from ear to ear just under his eyes. More stitches under the left side of his lips, going down to mid-chin. Another line on the right side of his mouth, splitting off in two directors one stretching down his neck and disappearing into his shirt while the other around by his ear. Dean wondered how much of him was actually him and not some other poor bastard he had cut up. Dean glanced past him seeing the steady rise and fall of his brother's chest.

"Shoot all you want," Benton said, walking toward Dean and regaining his attention. He was dressed in out of date clothes, covered by a brown apron stained with blood.

Dean lets off a few more shots and just as before Benton didn't even flinch. Dean lowered his gun as the doc stepped forward and grabbed hold of him, tossing him backward. Dean slammed into the shelving behind him, breaking glass beakers that dug into his hand as he dropped to the ground. Pain spread across Dean's back but forced himself to sit up, panting he leaned against a bookshelf in time for True to slip past Benton unnoticed.

The doc knelt down in front of Dean, reaching forward and grabbing a fist full of his shirt. Dean slipped his knife out from its holder and shoved it into Benton's chest, slicing it smoothly through rib and heart muscle, until the hilt stopped it from going in any further.

The doc laughed, releasing Dean. He backed away and rose to his feet, "A knife? What part of immortality do you not understand?" Benton glanced down at the knife, "Pity about the heart, though. It was a brand-new one."

"Good," Dean said, with a smirk sliding across his face, "Should be pumping nice and strong." The doc looked down at Dean confused as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the bottle of chloroform, he wiggled it so the liquid slashed around, "Sending this stuff throughout your whole body. See, I picked up your little bottle upstairs and dipped the knife in it."

Doc groaned the effect of the chloroform already setting in. He looked at his hand, fighting against the darkness that was taking him. He dropped, crashing into the same shelving that Dean had early before dropping flat on his back. True and Sam busted out from the other room, looking from Dean to Benton.

True grimaced at the doc, "Well, that's a lovely sight."

"Let's get him up," Dean said, rising to his feet, "We'll strap him to the table for a change."

True stepped aside as Sam and Dean dragged the doc to the operating table before hoisting him onto hit. Dean started using the belts to tie down his legs as Sam got his left arm and True his left. Dean walked around to the doc's left, standing beside True. She crossed her arms over her chest and examined the doc, looking bother repulsed and fascinated by him.

"Thank you guys for save me," Sam said, "The dude almost cut out my eye."

"Not in to sharing, are we?" True asked the corner of her lip twitching as she looked at Sam.

Sam scoffed, "I didn't think you would come right here."

"Yeah, there was a red eye boarding," True sighed, "I hate the flying red eye, so you're welcome."

Dean remained silent, staring down at the doc. He was sickened by the sight of him, not to mention the smell. How desperate he must have been to sacrifice so much of himself, to commit murder and steal organs. Dean gritted his teeth and swallowed hard, angered by the type of man he must have been. Benton's eyes begun to flutter as he woke up, Dean gently pushed True to the side so standing so he was directly in front of the man.

"Oh, hiya, Doc," Dean said, as True moved to his other side. The doc's head drooped in Dean's direction and he leaned his hand on the operation table to look down at him, "Wakey wakey eggs and bakey."

"Please," The doc begged.

"Really?" True scoffed, "You murder people, and now _you_ are begging for mercy? Did they beg? Did you show them mercy?"

"You don't understand, I can help you," Doc insisted, looking from Dean to True, "I know what you need."

"I'm gonna have to cut him into bits," Dean said, ignoring the doc, "This immortality thing is a bitch."

"I'm sure I can get a hold of some boxes and we can bury parts of him across the country," True added, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I can read the formula for you," Benton went on, turning back to Dean, "You know, immortality… forever young, never die."

"Dean," Sam said, snagging his brothers attention.

"Sam," Dean said. Sam hinted for his brother to follow him out of the operation room, and True tagged along as they gathered in the next room.

"What?" Dean asked.

"We're talking hell in three weeks or needing a new pancreas in half a century," Sam said, almost excited.

"You can't exactly get those at a Kwik-E-Mart," Dean pointed out.

"They sell anything on the black market," True pointed out.

"You not helping," Dean said to her.

"It's not perfect, but it buys us time to think of something better," Sam said, "We just need time, Dean. I mean, please, just think about it."

Dean didn't have to think about it, "No."

"Don't you want to live?" Sam demanded.

"He isn't living," Dean said, imaging all the work that they would have to put into it. The fact that the doc had his away for a hundred and fifty years, only resurfacing when he needed to replace a body part. It wasn't living, it was just surviving. "Look, this is simple."

"Simple?" Sam asked, more disappointed than confused.

"To me it is, okay?" Dean snapped, "Black or white. Human, not human."

"True?" Sam said, turning to the girl beside him.

True shook her head, a look of hurt crossing her face. Almost reluctantly she said, "I'm sorry, Sam, but I agree with Dean."

"You see, what the doc is…" Dean said ducking back into the other room, not bothering to see if the others followed him. He picked up the bottle of chloroform and a white rag, dumping the liquid onto it, "He's a freaking monster. I can't do it. I would rather go to hell."

"You don't understand," Benton insisted again, begging, "I can help you."

Dean placed the rag over his mouth, Benton gasping and coughing as he tried to resist. Dean glanced up to see Sam hovering in the door way, his face half hidden by the cloth hanging from the ceiling, but it didn't cover the disappointment on his face. Dean glanced to his left to find True, her face was perfectly blank and she didn't look at him.

"Now, I'm gonna take care of him," Dean said, a deadly clam to his voice. "You can either help me or not. It's up to you."

"What do you suggest?" True asked.

Benton stopped struggling and Dean tossed the rag down on the table. He thought for a moment before saying, "We burry him."

"In what?" Sam asked softly.

Dean hesitated, but True spoke up, "There was a fridge upstairs, looked big enough to hold him."

"We'll need rope or something to keep him inside while we burry him," Dean said.

"Right," True said, "I'll go empty the fridge and see if I can anything to tie it closed with, while you two lug him up stairs and dug a hole."

"You're not going to help us dig?" Dean demanded playfully as True turned to leave.

She glanced back at him with a smile, wiggling her red nails at him, "Are you kidding? I just got my nails done."

True disappeared back up the stairs and Dean turned back to his brother, who still had a disapproving look on his face, "Let's just get this over with."

Sam and Dean headed out of the house and back to the Impala, grabbing their shovels out of the trunk before walking back to the house and finding a suitable place to bury the doc. They got to work, digging six feet down and a little over six feet wide to fit the fridge. True came out a little later, announcing she had found changes and even a lock. The boys went back inside to bring Benton up to toss into the fridge. Wrapping the chain around the metal box four times they locked it and begun the struggle of getting it out of the house and into the hole.

Dean and Sam stood by the sand pile and True stood on the other side of the whole, tossing in the doc's journal. She pressed her lips into a thin line, her eyes rising to meet Dean's. Dean's heart pounded a little faster, he was glad she was back. He worried every time she left his sight; he liked her right where he could keep an eye on her. The fridge door starts to pop up as Benton struggles to get out, the chains rattling, and bringing Dean's attention away from the girl.

"No, no!" Benton bagged, "Don't be stupid! I can help you! No!"

"Enjoy forever in there, Doc," Dean said.

"I can save you!" Benton continued yelling, "Let me out! Let me out!"

The boys begun filling in the hole as True went to get her things from her rental car. Tired and sweaty, Dean led the way back to the impala. He popped the trunk and tossed in his shovel before stepping aside to let Sam do the same. Once the trunk was closed, the three of them got into the car. Dean started the car, and drove away from the house.

"We gotta leave town," Dean said as he raced back toward the city.

"Why?" Sam asked, barley glancing in his brothers direction.

"I could really use a shower first," True piped in from the back seat.

"Bela knows where we are," Dean said, "It's not safe."

"So you found her?" True asked, "Guess she didn't have the Colt."

"Of course not," Dean said angrily, "We'll swing by the motel to get Sam's things then get the hell out of dodge."

Dean made only one stop as he headed back into town, buying two blowup dolls from a nearby adult shop. At Sam's disgruntled look and True's amused laugh, Dean explained they were for putting under their blankets to make it look like they were sleep. He handed each of them a doll, instructing them to start blowing. True waited in the car as Sam and Dean ran inside to set up the dolls and gather the last of their things before the raced out of town. Dean started calling the hotel room over and over until there was finally an answer

"Hiya, Bella," Dean said, enjoying this far to much, "Here's a fun fact you may not know. I felt your hand in my pocket when you swiped that motel receipt."

" _You don't understand_ ," Bela said.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I understand perfectly," Dean said, "You see, I noticed something interesting in your hotel room. Something tucked above the door. An herb. Devil's shoestring? Well, there's only one use for that. Holding Hellhounds at bay. I went back and I took another look at your folks' obit. Turns out, they died ten years ago today. You didn't kill them. A demon did your dirty work. You made a deal, didn't you, Bela? And it's come due. So is that why you stole the Colt, huh? Try to wiggle out of your deal? Our gun for your soul?"

" _Yes_ ," Bela whispered, her voice breaking on the word.

"But stealing the Colt wasn't quite enough, I'm guessing," Dean said, unsympathetic.

" _They changed the deal_ ," Bela's voice was thick with tears, " _They wanted me to kill Sam_."

"Really?" Dean asked sarcastically, chuckling to himself, "Wow. Demons are untrustworthy. Shocker. That's, uh, kind of a tight deadline too. Uh, what time is it? Oh, look at that, almost midnight."

" _Dean, listen_ ," Bela sobbed into the phone, " _I need help_."

"Sweetheart, we are weeks past help," Dean said, his tone made deep and even by his anger.

" _I know I don't deserve it_ ," Bela continued to sob.

"You're right, you don't," Dean said, "But you know what the bitch of the bunch is? If you would've just come to us sooner and asked for help we probably could've taken the Colt and saved you."

" _I know, and saved yourself_ ," Bela said, " _I know about your deal, Dean_."

"And who told you that?" Dean asked tightly.

" _The demon that holds it_ ," Bela said, swallowing her tears, " _She holds mine too. She says she holds every deal_."

"She?" Dean asked.

" _Her name's Lilith_ ," Bela said.

"Lilith?" Dean repeated, glancing at Sam, "Why should I believe you?"

" _You shouldn't, but it's the truth_ ," Bela said.

"This can't help you, Bela," Dean said, they were too far away to make it to her in time, "Not now. Why are you telling me this?"

" _Because just maybe you can kill the bitch_ ," Bela said.

"I'll see you in hell," Dean said, sliding the phone from his ear and snapping it close.

 **A/N: OMG fam, we got ONE MORE EPISODE left until then end of season three. I can't believe it, we made it to the end! Lol I hope you guys enjoy!**

 **P. S. SilveD15, you mentioned that I edited but I didn't, so I'm super confused here. So if you could PM or comment letting me know what you feel was edited so I can fix it or explain it I would appreciate it. Thanks!**


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